23October2025
I still cant believe how far things have come since I first saw her at university. Back then, studying chemistry at Leeds, I was utterly captivated by her a love that felt pure and almost naïve. When she finally noticed me, I went completely off the rails. It was a few years after we both graduated that we ended up in the same firm, a London software house, both specialising in data analytics. It seemed fate, or at least a convenient coincidence.
She was everything Id ever imagined: confident, witty, and, at the time, happily married to a solicitor named Graham. Id never been married myself, so I didnt understand what it meant for a marriage to crumble. When Emma decided to leave Graham for me, I felt no shame I merely thought we were embarking on a new chapter together. Who could have guessed the heartbreak that would follow? As the old saying goes, you cant build your happiness on someone elses misery.
When she chose me, I was on cloud nine and prepared to forgive any transgression. Yet, in everyday life, the fairytale veneer slipped. Her laundry piled up in our flat, dishes were never done, and the bulk of the housework fell squarely on my shoulders. At the time, I brushed it off; after all, she was the one who had walked away from a marriage, so I told myself it was her price to pay.
Emma quickly dismissed the idea of ever returning to Graham. They had no children; the marriage had been more of a convenience, encouraged by her inlaws. With me, she kept insisting that things would be different.
Our bliss was shortlived. When Emma announced she was pregnant, we threw a proper family gathering at her parents house in Birmingham to celebrate. Everyone offered their best wishes and told us to keep the baby snug and healthy. That evening remains one of my fondest memories, and I harbor no regrets about it. Yet, from that point onward, the blind affection I felt began to dim.
As her belly grew, Emmas visits grew scarcer. I was on paternity leave, so we only met late in the evenings. She stayed later at the office, attended endless corporate afterparties, and the strain of juggling chores without her help became overwhelming. I found myself constantly bending over to pick up socks shed left strewn about, an effort that grew more exhausting each day.
I started questioning whether wed rushed into parenthood. I knew feelings could wane, but I hadnt expected it to happen so fast. Emma still brought me flowers and chocolates, but all I wanted was her presence.
Soon enough, her frequent outings stopped being innocent. Colleagues whispered about a new junior analyst in our department someone the team had just hired to fill the staffing gap left by Emmas maternity leave. The irony wasnt lost on me. I didnt have proof, but the pattern was clear: Emma had no free minutes. Work, meetings, or yet another corporate function filled her schedule.
One afternoon, I found a slip of paper in the pocket of her coat, scribbled with initials I didnt recognise. I slipped it back, pretending not to have noticed. It was terrifying to feel so alone during the seventh month of her pregnancy, while she complained that I was becoming too nervous. Every argument ended with a sigh of disappointment from her. I realised that pressing the issue would only push her further away, and the fear of ending up alone terrified me. As the proverb says, what you fear most can become a selffulfilling prophecy.
Despite Emmas polished courtship, she was far from a gentleman. The worst words I ever heard from her were, Im not ready to have a child, and, Ive got someone else. I cant even recall the exact tone, but at that moment I thought I might be losing my mind.
When I finally gathered the courage to file for divorce, Emma seemed taken aback. She hadnt expected me to set a boundary, nor to throw all her belongings out the next day. Thankfully we rented a flat, so I didnt have to fight over property.
What about the child? she asked, eyes wide. How will you raise him?
Ill manage, I replied. Ill work from home, and my parents have offered to help. My mother warned me he was a bit of a rogue I should have listened.
It was the responsibility for my son that gave me the strength to walk away. Alone, I never would have found the resolve to start anew. I also realised I never wanted to raise a child with a father like Emma. Her betrayal was so cowardly that I cut all ties, as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes.
The first months after the divorce, including the birth, were brutal. I moved back in with my parents in Manchester; my grandparents were overjoyed to have a grandson. I wont say I didnt miss Emma, but I tried not to dwell on her. Deep down, I was convinced Id made the right decision and could now give my son everything he deserved.
Then, out of the blue, Emma resurfaced. She claimed she was filled with remorse and wanted to meet our son. The question now hangs over me: do I allow her back into our lives, or should I start afresh in another city?
Lesson learned: Love should never be built on the wreckage of anothers life, and the only foundation worth keeping is the one you can stand on alone.
