Two years after the divorce, I bumped into my ex-wifeit all clicked for me, but she just gave me this bitter little smile and shut down my desperate plea to start over
When our second child was born, Katherine completely let herself go. She used to change outfits five times a day, obsessing over the perfect look, but after coming home from the hospital in Manchester, it was like she forgot anything existed beyond this worn-out jumper and saggy joggers that hung off her like a white flag of surrender.
In that *lovely* getup, she wasnt just pottering around the houseshe *lived* in it, day and night, often crashing in those rags like theyd become her second skin. When I asked why, shed just shrug and mumble something about it being easier for night feeds. There was a grim logic to it, sure, but all those grand principles she used to preach”A womans got to stay a woman, even in hell!”vanished into thin air. Katherine forgot everything: her favourite beauty salon in Bristol, the gym she treated like holy ground, andforgive me for sayingshe couldnt even be bothered with a bra in the mornings, shuffling around with everything on full display, like it didnt matter at all.
And her body? Well, that went to ruin too. Everything saggedher waist, her stomach, her legs, even her neck lost its shape, like a shadow of its old self. Her hair? A proper nightmareeither a wild, tangled mess like shed been caught in a storm or a scrappy bun with bits sticking out like SOS signals. The worst part? Before the baby, shed been stunninga solid ten. When we strolled through London, blokes would turn their heads, eyes glued to her. It fed my ego*thats my goddess, all mine!* But now? Nothing left of her, just a faded outline of what shed been.
Our home mirrored her downfalla gloomy swamp of chaos. The only thing she still had a grip on was cooking. Hand on heart? Katherine was magic in the kitchen. Complaining about her food wouldve been a sin. But the rest? Pure tragedy.
I tried to snap her out of it, begged her not to let herself go like this, but shed just give me this apologetic smile and promise to do better. Time passed, my patience wore thinseeing that sorry ghost of a woman every day became unbearable. One stormy night, I dropped the bomb: divorce. Katherine tried to stop me, rattling off empty promises again, but she didnt scream, didnt fight. When she saw I wasnt backing down, she just sighed, hurt:
*”Fine I thought you loved me.”*
I wasnt about to get dragged into some pointless debate about love. Filed the papers, and soon enough, at the registry office in Leeds, we got our divorce certificatesend of story.
Im hardly father of the yearaside from child support, I didnt lift a finger for my ex-family. The thought of seeing the woman whod once dazzled me with her beauty again? Like a punch to the gut Id rather avoid.
Two years passed. One evening, wandering through the buzzing streets of London, I spotted a figure in the distanceher walk so familiar, light, almost dancing. She was heading straight for me. When she got closer, my heart stopped*Katherine!* But what a Katherine! Reborn from the ashes, even more beautiful than in our early, passionate daysthe picture of elegance. Sky-high heels, flawless hair, everything in perfect harmonyher dress, makeup, nails, jewellery And the scent of her old perfume hit me like a wave, dragging me under forgotten memories.
My face mustve said it allshock, longing, shamebecause she let out this sharp, triumphant laugh:
*”What, dont recognise me? Told you Id bounce backyou just didnt believe me!”*
She let me walk her to the gym, mentioned the kids in passingdoing great, full of beans. Didnt say much about herself, but she didnt need toher glow, that unshakeable confidence, that knockout charm shouted her transformation louder than words ever could.
My mind flashed back to those dark days: her dragging herself around the house, wrecked by sleepless nights and the grind of it all, wrapped in that cursed jumper and joggers, that sad bun her badge of defeat. How it infuriated methe lost grace, the snuffed-out spark! This was the same woman Id walked out on, along with our kids, blinded by my own selfishness and petty anger.
As we said goodbye, I stammered if I could call her, confessed I finally got it, begged for a fresh start. But she just gave me this cool, victorious smile, shook her head with stone-cold finality, and said:
*”Too late for epiphanies, mate. Cheers!”*
