Now Im 52. And Ive got nothing. No wife, no family, no kids, no job absolutely nothing.
My names Peter. My wife and I were married for 30 years. I was always the one bringing in the money while my wife, Margaret, took care of the home. I never wanted her to workI liked having her there. But over time, it started to grate on me.
We lived together civilly, with respect, but the love had faded. I thought that was normaljust how things go. Then everything changed. One night, at a pub, I met Emily. She was 20 years youngergorgeous, sweet, full of life. Like a dream come true.
We started seeing each other, and before long, she became my mistress. After a couple of months, I realised I couldnt keep lying to my wife. I didnt even want to go home after work. I knew I loved EmilyI wanted her as my wife.
A few days later, I told Margaret the truth. She didnt make a scene, didnt shout. She stayed calm. I thought maybe she didnt love me either, the way she took it so quietly. But now I see how much I hurt her.
We divorced. Sold the flat where wed spent so many years together. Emily insisted I shouldnt let my ex-wife keep itso I didnt. Margaret bought a tiny studio flat. With my savings, I got a nice two-bedroom place for Emily.
I didnt help my ex-wifenot a single penny. I knew she had no money, that she wouldnt find work straight away. But at the time, I didnt care. Our boys, James and William, refused to speak to me. They felt Id betrayed their mum, and they couldnt forgive me.
Back then, it didnt bother me much. Emily was pregnant, and we were counting down to the babys arrival. Soon enough, a little boy was born. But he didnt look like meor even Emily. My mates joked it wasnt mine. I ignored them.
Life with Emily was a mess. I was working all hours, running the house, looking after the baby. Emily just kept asking for money, always out somewhere. The place was a tip, no food ready when I got home. Shed stumble in at 3 or 4 a.m., reeking of booze, picking fights over nothing.
Eventually, I lost my job. I was exhausted, angry, doing everything half-arsed. That went on for three years. Then my brotherwho never liked Emily and always doubted the kid was minetalked me into a DNA test. Turns out, he wasnt my son.
We divorced straight after the truth came out. By then, I hadnt spoken to Margaret or the boys in years. After the split, I decided to go back to my first wife. Bought flowers, a bottle of wine, a cakewent to see her. But she didnt live there anymore. The new owner gave me her address.
I turned up. A man answered the door. Turned out Margaret had landed a good job, married a colleague. She was happy. Doing well.
A while later, I bumped into her at a café. Asked her to take me back. She looked at me like I was daft and walked off. Now I get what a fool Ive been. What was I after? What did I even achieve? Why did I throw away my wife for some young girl?
Now Im 52. And Ive got nothing. No wife, no job, not even my kids will talk to me. I lost everything that ever mattered. And its all my fault. Worst part? Theres no fixing it.
