28March2025 Diary
I still recall the first time I spotted Eleanor at Cambridge. She was in my literature seminar, her bright laugh cutting through the usual monotony of academic chatter. I thought Id found the woman Id been dreaming of since school naïve, headoverheels, convinced that destiny was steering us together. When, after a few years postgraduation, we both ended up at the same consultancy in London, I took it as a sign. Our specialisms matched perfectly, which, in a city of specialists, isnt unusual. Yet I felt the universe had finally given me a nudge.
Eleanor seemed the perfect partner. At the time I didnt mind that she was already married; Id never been in a marriage myself, so I couldnt imagine the wreckage of a broken one. When she told me she was leaving her husband, Jack, for me, I felt an exhilarating rush. Who could have guessed the pain that would follow? As the saying goes, you cant build your happiness on someone elses misery.
When Eleanor chose me, I was on cloud nine and ready to forgive anything. In private, however, the picture painted in public fell apart. Her belongings were strewn across our flat in Brighton, and she refused to lift a finger at the sink. All the domestic chores fell on my shoulders, yet I brushed it off as just the way it is. She quickly dismissed her former marriage they had no children, and it turned out her inlaws had pressured her into the union. With me, she promised everything would be different.
Our brief bliss ended the moment I discovered I was expecting. At first, Eleanor was overjoyed; we even threw a proper family gathering to announce the news. Relatives offered their warm wishes, and I still remember that night as one of my fondest memories. But from that point, my blind devotion began to wane.
As my belly grew, Eleanor became a phantom. I was on maternity leave, which meant we only met late in the evenings. She stayed late at the office, attended afterwork drinks, and the evenings grew longer. At first I tolerated it, but soon the exhaustion set in. The chores that once seemed trivial now required more than a quick bend to pick up her scattered socks. I started questioning whether wed rushed into parenthood.
I knew feelings could dim over time, yet I never imagined it happening so swiftly. She still brought me flowers and chocolate, but all I wanted was her presence. It soon became clear her frequent outings werent innocent. A colleague mentioned, offhand, that a new junior analyst had joined our department. The team was already shortstaffed, and with Eleanor on leave the workload had become a nightmare. The irony wasnt lost on me.
I wasnt sure it was her, but the pattern was obvious: Eleanor never seemed to have a free minute. Work, meetings, networking events they all took precedence. One day I found a slip of paper in the pocket of her coat, bearing initials I didnt recognise. I slipped it back without saying a word, pretending ignorance.
It was terrifying to be alone in my seventh month of pregnancy, while Eleanor complained that I was becoming too nervous. Every argument ended with her sighing in disappointment. I realised that pushing the subject would only leave me more isolated. The fear of losing her was so intense that I could think of nothing else. As the old adage warns, fearing something too much can bring it about.
No matter how charmingly shed courted me, Eleanor was far from a gentleman. The harshest words she ever said to me were, Im not ready to have a child and, I have someone else. I cant even recall the exact tone, but in that moment I thought I was losing my mind.
When the divorce finally surfaced, I never imagined Id have the strength to file the papers. Eleanor seemed as surprised as I was that I would no longer tolerate her behaviour. The next morning I cleared out her belongings and tossed them onto the street. I was oddly relieved that we rented a flat at least I didnt have to share it any longer.
And the baby? What will you do? she asked.
Ill manage. Ill work from home, and my parents have offered to help. Mum always warned me he was a philanderer; I should have listened, I replied.
Responsibility for my son gave me a sudden surge of confidence. Alone, I might never have found the courage to walk away. Yet I also realised I never wanted to raise a child with a father like her. Her betrayal was so cowardly that I could no longer bear any connection to her. It was as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes.
The first months after the divorce, including the birth, were a crucible. I moved back in with my parents in Manchester, much to the delight of my grandparents, who were thrilled to have a grandson. I wont deny that I missed Eleanor at times, but I tried not to dwell on it. Deep down I was convinced Id made the right choice and could now give my son everything he needed.
Then, out of the blue, Eleanor resurfaced. She claimed deep remorse and wanted to meet our son. Im left wondering whether I should allow that, or perhaps relocate to a new city altogether.
Lesson learned: love built on shaky foundations crumbles when the truth surfaces, and the only lasting strength comes from knowing when to walk away for the sake of those who truly depend on you.
