The man I believed was my destiny left his wife for me, yet I never foresaw the anguish it would bring.
From my university days, I adored himblindly, foolishly. When he finally noticed me years later, I was utterly lost. Fate, I thought, had brought us together in the same law firm. After all, we shared the same professionit wasnt so strange. But to me, it felt like destiny.
He seemed perfectcharming, intelligent. Back then, I didnt care that he was married. Id never been wed myself and had no idea how it felt to tear a marriage apart. So when William left his wife for me, I felt no guilt. How could I have known the sorrow it would bring? Theres truth in the old sayinghappiness built on anothers pain never lasts.
When he chose me, I was euphoric, willing to overlook anything. Yet behind closed doors, he wasnt the gallant barrister everyone admired. His clothes littered the floor; dishes piled up in the sink. The burden of housework fell entirely on me. But in those early days, none of it mattered.
He claimed his first marriage had been a mistakea union forced by her family. With me, he swore, it was different.
That illusion shattered when I became pregnant. At first, William was thrilled. We hosted a grand celebrationhis family toasting to our future. That night remains one of my happiest memories. I dont regret it. But from that moment, my blind devotion began to crumble.
As my belly swelled, William vanished. Maternity leave left me alone while he buried himself in workor so he claimed. Late nights, office parties, sudden emergencies. At first, I excused it. Soon, exhaustion set in. Simple chores became impossiblebending to pick up his discarded socks strained my aching back.
Had we rushed into parenthood?
Love fades, they say, but not this swiftly. He still brought roses, chocolatesempty gestures. All I wanted was his presence.
Then came the whispers. Over tea, a colleague mentioned a new junior associateyoung, bright. Staff shortages had grown dire after my leave. The irony wasnt lost on me.
I couldnt be certain it was her, but William had no time left for me. Work meetings. Networking events. A crumpled note in his coat pocket, initialled by someone unknown. I slipped it back, numb. Pretending was easier than facing the truth.
By my seventh month, isolation gnawed at me. Yet William dismissed my fears as hysteria. Every disagreement ended with his exasperated sigh. I clung to silence, terrified that confronting him would leave me alone. Fear, they say, invites the very thing you dread.
The man who once wooed me with poetry revealed himself in two brutal sentences: *Im not ready to be a father.* And: *Theres someone else.* The words blurredbut the betrayal burned.
Somehow, I found the strength to file for divorce. He never expected Id walk awaycertainly not that Id toss his belongings onto the pavement the next day. At least wed only rented the flat. No messy division of assets.
*What about the child?* he sneered. *How will you manage?*
*Ill manage,* I snapped. *Ill work remotely. My parents have offered help. My mother warned me about youI shouldve listened.*
Perhaps it was the thought of my son that steeled me. Alone, I might have stayed. But I refused to let him grow up believing his fathers behaviour was acceptable.
The divorce was final before the birth. I moved in with my parents, who doted on their grandson. There were moments I missed Williambut mostly, I felt relief. This was right. I *would* give my son stability.
Recovery was slow, but freelance legal work became my lifeline. Lean months were eased by my parents support. Eventually, clients became steady. Independence returned.
Years blurrednursery, then primary school. By the time he needed his own room, I could afford to rent us a proper home. For the first time in a decade, I breathed freely.
Then William reappeared.
Our legal circles are small. Hed tracked down my office, remorseful now. *I was young,* he pleaded. *I regret everything. I want to know my son.*
The law grants him that right. If he pushes, hell win access. The thought chills me. Weeks have passed since his pleaIve stalled, paralysed. How do I shield my boy from a man who abandoned us?
Is this my punishment? Karma for stealing him from his first wife? Perhaps we *should* leave Londonstart anew where he cant find us.
