The man I once dreamed of left his wife for me, yet I never foresaw how it would all unravel.
I had adored him since my days at Cambridge. Some might call it blind devotionreckless and unwavering. When at last he noticed me, I was utterly besotted. It happened a few years after graduation, when we found ourselves working at the same firm in London. Given our shared profession, such coincidences werent uncommon. Still, I mistook it for destiny.
To me, he was everything a woman could desire. In my youthful naivety, I cared little that he was already wed. I had never been married myself and knew nothing of the pain a broken union could bring. So when Edward chose to leave his wife for me, I felt no shame. Who could have guessed it would lead to such heartache? They say it rightlyhappiness cannot be built upon anothers sorrow.
When he picked me, I was over the moon, willing to overlook any flaw. In truth, he was no knight in shining armour. His things were always strewn about our flat, and he outright refused to lift a finger with the washing-up. The burden of housekeeping fell entirely on me, but back then, it scarcely mattered.
He put his past marriage behind him swiftly. They had no children, and as it turned out, it had been her parents who pushed for the wedding. With me, he claimed, it was differenta love of his own choosing.
My joy was short-lived, lasting only until I fell pregnant. At first, Edward was thrilled at the prospect of fatherhood. We even hosted a grand gathering to share the news. Friends and family toasted our future, wishing us health and happiness. That evening remains among my fondest memories, and I regret none of it. Yet from that moment, my blind devotion began to wane.
As my belly swelled, Edward grew more distant. I had taken maternity leave, so our paths crossed only late at night. He stayed longer at the office, attending more company functions. At first, I paid it no mind, but soon, it wore on me. Household tasks became a strugglebending to pick up his scattered socks was no simple feat.
During those months, I often wonderedhad we rushed into starting a family?
I knew love could fade, but never imagined it would happen so swiftly. Edward still brought flowers and sweets, yet what I truly wanted was his presence.
Eventually, the truth came to light. His late nights were not all work. Over tea, a colleague mentioned a new junior joining our team. There had been a staffing shortage, and my maternity leave had only worsened it. The irony was bitter.
I couldnt say for certain if it was her, but my husband was clearly entangled with someone. His time was always claimedwork, meetings, another office gathering he couldnt miss. One evening, I found a note in his coat pocket, signed with unfamiliar initials. I dont know why, but I slipped it back and resolved to act as though Id seen nothing.
It was terrifying to face the seventh month of pregnancy alone, yet Edward insisted I had become unreasonable. Every disagreement ended with his weary sigh. Somehow, I knew that confronting him would leave me abandoned. The dread of losing him consumed me. They say if you fear something too much, it comes to pass.
For all his earlier charm, Edward was no true gentleman. The cruelest words I ever heard were: “Im not ready for children,” and: “Theres someone else.” I scarcely recall how he said itonly that my world crumbled in that instant.
I never thought Id have the courage to seek a divorce. Clearly, he hadnt either. Nor did he expect me to toss his belongings into the street the very next day. At least we had only rented the flatno tedious division of property.
“What of the child? How will you manage?”
“Ill find a way. Freelance work, perhaps. My parents have offered to help. My mother always said he was a rakeI should have listened.”
Perhaps it was the thought of my unborn son that steeled me. Alone, I might have stayed. But I refused to raise a child with such a man.
His betrayal was so vile, I wanted nothing more to do with him. The scales had fallen from my eyes.
The months that followedbirth includedwere gruelling. I returned to my parents home, where my sons grandparents doted on him. I wont claim I never missed Edward, but I pushed him from my thoughts. Deep down, I knew Id done right by my boy.
Once recovered, I sought work. Id done legal translations occasionally before, and now I made it my trade. There were lean months, but my parents steadied me. In time, I built a stable income and stood on my own.
My son grew swiftlythe first years slipped by unnoticed. It wasnt until he needed his own room that I realised how much time had passed. Though my parents begged us to stay, I longed for a space of our own. With savings enough, we moved to a modest flat.
Life settled. Nursery became school, and before I knew it, he was in Year Five. For the first time in years, I felt content. Then, out of nowhere, Edward reappeared.
London is vast, yet in our legal circles, paths cross easily. He discovered where I worked and sought me out. In that moment, I wished Id moved to Manchester or Bristol. My ex-husband, it seemed, had finally grown up. He spoke of regret, of foolish youth, of longing to know his son. He insisted on meeting him.
The law grants him that right. And if Edward is determined, hell find a way. The thought terrifies me. Weeks have passed since our talk. I told him Id consider it, but truthfully, Im at a loss. I want to shield my son from him.
Now I wonderis this my penance for stealing Edward from his first wife? Perhaps I ought to leave this city altogether.
