**What About Me? Am I Just an Afterthought?**
“I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye, William,” I wrote in the note, calmly, without exclamation marks. He would never read it. After a moments thought, I burned it.
Years ago, William and I fell into a reckless, consuming lovefiery, intoxicating, and unstoppable. We raced toward the edge without a second thought.
William had a wife and three young children. I had two sons and a husband. Our friends shook their heads, muttering, “Have you both lost your minds? Think of your families!” But to us, the world had narrowed to just the two of us. No obstacles, no consequences.
After our stolen moments, Id always catch myself thinking: I would never want children with William. Never.
He spoke of his own children with detachment:
“I dont adore kids. My wife always wanted more. What do I care?”
Honestly, his indifference unsettled me. But I wasnt planning to marry him! Let him have his broodit was his affair.
…Three years later, we married. We were happy, settled. My sons stayed with me.
When Williams children grew older, the chaos beganendless demands, a relentless cycle. Midnight calls, surprise visits to his office, urgent pleas for money.
Always money. Or rather, the lack of it. William supported all three, guilt-ridden, unable to refuse. I understood. So did his childrenthey exploited his remorse without shame. Every whim was indulged. I pitied them, though I knew they saw me as the enemy.
…Years passed. Grandchildren arrivedfive so far, with more likely. His eldest daughter fled an abusive husband, raising three little ones alone, always needing help. His youngest lived on benefits yet spent lavishly, drifting through life without a care. His middle son? A hopeless drunk, jobless, his alimony paid by Williamfrom our budget. His granddaughter, the spitting image of him, was his favourite.
William himself was drowning in debt, though his children never noticed. Only Iand my sons, who begged me to leave this “side-project sponsor”knew the truth. Once, I asked for perfume. He frowned.
“Darling, you know Ive no sense of smell. Why waste money? Ill get it soon.”
“Right. In another decade,” I sighed.
I stopped asking. The excuses were endless: VIP maternity care for his daughter (why not a shared ward?), a designer coat for his granddaughter (wouldnt a regular jacket do?), new shoes for his thirty-year-old son
Our fights? Always about his grown children. Every argument ended with my warning: “If we divorce, William, blame your kids.” Yet he insists he cant live without me.
But what about me? Im exhausted. I want my own life, not one dictated by his children. Their names echo through our home like a tolling bell.
I remember a line from a film: “Well, Im not an orphan either!” I have my own children and grandchildren who need love. Why couldnt I walk away twenty years ago?
Lifes a cunning playwright, scripting each of us a role. I wouldnt wish this trap on anyone. I reaped what I sowedpassion burned out, leaving only emptiness. What once felt like boundless love now has a bottom, and Ive hit it.
My son moved awaya family, a job. Hes been asking me to join him.
Im leaving for good. Decision made. I wrote William a note, then burned it. Hell understandor he wont. Words wont change that.
P.S. I visited my children, my grandchildren. Stayed with my other son in Germanymarried to a meticulous woman from Düsseldorf. Their child speaks no English. What does he see in her? Love defies reason, they say.
Their lives are peaceful, full of love. A balm to my soul.
…A month later, I returned. William never realized Id left for good. But he did buy me expensive French perfume.
**Lesson:** Some debts arent financial. Love shouldnt cost you your peaceor yourself.
