I stand rigid by the window, watching the dark night through the glass. My fist clenches a halfempty glass of gin. Every tick of the clock fills the silence, each second dragging cruelly.
Shes late.
Far too late.
Then headlights slice the street.
A sleek black sedan pulls up in front of our terraced house. My heart tightens. Behind the wheel sits a tall, confident stranger.
The passenger door swings open.
And she steps out.
A cold shiver runs down my spine.
She smileslight, natural, conspiratorial. She leans toward him, whispers something, and he chuckles, a soft, intimate laugh.
She shuts the door and heads toward the front door, unaware of the storm raging inside me.
My blood boils.
Who is this man? How long has this been going on? Is this the first time?
She opens the door and walks in, tossing her handbag onto the kitchen table as if nothing happened.
Who was that? My voice is low, sharp.
She freezes, looks at me, surprised. Excuse me?
That man in the car. Who is he?
She sighs deeply, exasperated. Thomas not again. It was Lucys husband. He just gave her a lift, thats all. Are you serious?
But I cant hear her words.
All I sense is a dull, seething rage filling my head, a torrent of dark thoughts.
My hand lifts before I can stop it.
The slap cracks through the room.
She recoils, hand pressed to her face. A thin line of blood drips from her nose.
The ensuing silence is unbearable.
She stares at me, eyes wide with terror.
A knot forms in my throat.
Ive crossed a line.
A line I can never walk back from.
She doesnt scream. She doesnt cry. Nothing.
She simply grabs her coat and leaves.
The next morning a bailiff hands me the divorce papers.
I have lost everything even my son.
I have endured your jealousy for years, she says in our final conversation, her voice cold as ice. But never violence.
I beg her forgiveness, swear it was a mistake, a moment of madness that will never happen again.
She refuses to listen.
Then the final blow lands in front of the judge she claims Im also violent with our child.
A lie.
A vicious lie that seals my fate.
I have never raised a hand against him. I have never shouted at him.
But who believes a man who has already struck his wife?
The judge hesitates not a second.
She is granted sole custody.
Me? A few hours a week, limited visits in a neutral setting.
No nights at home. No mornings to make his breakfast.
For six months my life shrinks to those scarce hours.
Those brief moments when he runs to me laughing, his small arms looping around my neck.
Then I watch him go, over and over.
Until the day he tells me something that shatters me.
The truth my fiveyearold son reveals.
Hes growing, understanding more each day.
One afternoon, while he rolls his toy cars across the table, he says innocently:
Daddy, last night Mum wasnt home. There was a lady with me.
My heart freezes.
A lady? What lady? I ask, trying to stay calm.
I dont know. She comes when Mum goes out at night.
A chill runs through me.
Where does she go?
He shrugs. She doesnt tell me.
My fingers clench.
I need answers.
When I discover the truth, my throat tightens.
She has hired a nanny.
A stranger.
While I scramble for any extra time with my own son, she entrusts him to an unknown woman.
I grab my phone and call her.
Why is a stranger looking after our son when Im right here?
Her voice is calm, cold. Because its easier.
Easier?! My anger roars. Im his father! If he cant be with you, he must be with me!
She sighs. James, Im not going to drive across the city every time I have an appointment. Stop making everything about you.
My phone trembles in my hand.
What can I do? Sue her? Fight for custody?
And what if I lose again?
One mistake. One moment of madness.
And they take everything from me.
But my son?
I will not let him slip away.
I will fight.
Because he is the only thing I have left.
