The man of my dreams left his wife for me, but I never imagined how the whole thing would end. Id already been admiring him back at university we could call it a naïve, blind, unconditional love. When he finally turned his attention to me, I completely lost my head. To be honest, it happened a few years after Id graduated we both ended up in the same firm in London, which wasnt odd at all because we shared the same specialty. Still, I told myself it was destiny.
He seemed like the bloke Id always pictured. At the time I didnt mind that he was already married. Id never been married myself and had no idea what a broken marriage felt like, so I felt no shame when Paul decided to ditch his wife for me. Who could have guessed it would cause me so much pain? As the saying goes, you cant build your happiness on someone elses misery.
When he chose me I was on cloud nine and ready to forgive anything. In everyday life, however, he wasnt the charming prince he appeared to be in public. His stuff was scattered all over the flat and he flatout refused to do the dishes. All the housework fell on my shoulders, but back then I didnt care a bit.
He quickly forgot his previous marriage. They hadnt had any children, and it turned out his parents had pushed him into that union. With me, he kept saying everything would be different.
My bliss was shortlived, because everything changed when I got pregnant. At first Paul was thrilled about the baby. We even threw a big family party to celebrate, and everyone wished us lots of love and good health for the forthcoming child.
That night remains one of my fondest memories, and I have no regrets when I think back. But from that moment my blind devotion began to fade.
The bigger my belly got, the rarer Paul appeared. I was on maternity leave, so we only met late at night. He stayed later at the office and attended endless company socials. At first it didnt bug me, but soon it wore me out. The chores grew harder because I could no longer simply bend over to pick up his wayward socks.
I started wondering whether wed rushed into having a child.
I knew feelings could wane over time, but I hadnt expected it to happen so quickly. Paul still brought me flowers and chocolates, yet all I wanted was for him to be there.
It soon became clear his frequent outings werent innocent. A colleague mentioned, offhand, that a new young employee had joined our department. We were already shortstaffed, and when I went on leave the situation had become critical. How very British, the irony.
I wasnt sure it was her, but my husband definitely had someone, because he never had a minute free. Either it was work, a meeting, or another corporate function he simply couldnt miss. One day I found a scrap of paper in his jacket pocket with initials I didnt recognise. I dont know why I took it out, but I slipped it back and pretended not to notice.
It was terrifying being alone in my seventh month, and Paul kept complaining that Id become too nervous. Every argument ended with a sigh of disappointment from him. Something told me that if I raised the issue, Id end up on my own. The fear of losing him grew so strong that nothing else seemed possible. As the old rhyme goes, fear can become a selffulfilling prophecy.
No matter how suavely Paul had courted me, he was hardly a gentleman. The worst lines I ever heard were, Im not ready for a child, and, Ive got someone else. I cant even recall exactly how he said it, but I thought I was losing my mind.
I never imagined I could summon the courage to ask for a divorce. He didnt expect me to stop tolerating his behaviour, nor did he anticipate that, the next day, Id throw all his belongings out the door. I was grateful we lived in a rented flat at least I didnt have to share it with anyone else.
And the baby? What will you do about him?
Ill manage. Ill work from home and my parents have always offered help. My mum warned me he was a bit of a philanderer I should have listened.
It was probably my sense of responsibility to my future son that gave me confidence. Alone, I would never have had the gumption to walk away.
I also realised I didnt want to raise a child with a father like that. His betrayal was so cowardly I cut all ties. It was as if a veil lifted from my eyes.
The first months after the divorce, including the birth, were brutal. I moved back in with my parents, which delighted my grandparents they were over the moon to have a grandson. I cant say I didnt miss Paul at all, but I tried not to think of him. Deep down I was convinced Id made the right choice and that I could give my son everything he needed.
Then, out of the blue, he turned up again.
It turns out Paul is deeply remorseful and wants to meet his son. But do I want that? Maybe I really should move to another city, perhaps Manchester, and start fresh.
