Now Im 52 years old, and I have nothingno wife, no family, no children, no job. Nothing at all.
My name is Peter. My wife and I were married for 30 years. I was always the one who provided for the family, while my wife, Margaret, took care of the home. I never wanted her to work. I was happy knowing she was there, waiting. But over time, I grew irritated.
We lived together respectfully, but the love faded. I thought that was just how things wentnormal, even acceptable. Then everything changed. One evening, in a pub, I met Emily. She was 20 years younger than megorgeous, kind, and full of life. She seemed like a dream come true.
We started seeing each other, and soon, she became my lover. After two months, I realised I no longer wanted to keep deceiving my wife. I dreaded going home after work. I was in love with Emily, and I wanted her to be my wife.
A few days later, I told Margaret the truth. She didnt make a scene. She stayed calm. At the time, I assumed she didnt love me eitherthats why she took it so well. But now I understand how deeply I hurt her.
We divorced. We sold the flat where wed spent so many years together. Emily insisted I shouldnt let my ex-wife keep it, so I didnt. Margaret bought a small studio flat, while I used my savings to buy a two-bedroom place for Emily.
I didnt help my ex-wifenot even a penny. I knew she had little money and wouldnt find work straight away, but I didnt care. Our sons, Thomas and William, refused to speak to me. They felt Id betrayed their mother and couldnt forgive me.
Back then, it barely mattered to me. Emily was pregnant, and we were eagerly awaiting our child. Soon, a son was born. But he didnt look like meor even like Emily. My friends doubted he was mine. I refused to listen.
Life with Emily was miserable. I worked long hours, took care of the house, and looked after the baby while she demanded money and stayed out late. The flat was always a mess, meals were never ready, and shed stumble home at dawn, reeking of alcohol, picking fights over nothing.
Eventually, I lost my job. I was exhausted, bitter, and my work suffered. Three years passed like this. Then my brotherwho never approved of Emily and always doubted the child was mineconvinced me to take a DNA test. The boy wasnt my son.
We divorced as soon as the truth came out. By then, Id lost all contact with Margaret and my sons. After the divorce, I decided to go back to my first wife. I bought flowers, wine, a cake, and went to see her. But she no longer lived there. The new owner gave me her address.
I went. A man answered the door. Margaret had found a good job and remarrieda colleague of hers. She was happy, settled.
Later, I saw her in a café. I begged her to take me back. She looked at me as if I were a fool and walked away. Now I understand the mistake I made. What did I want? What did I achieve? Why did I leave my wife for a younger woman?
Now Im 52. And I have nothingno wife, no job, not even my sons will speak to me. I lost everything that truly mattered, and it was all my fault. Some mistakes can never be undone.
