*”A HUSBAND WORTH MORE THAN BITTER REGRETS”*
*”Ian, that was the last straw! We’re donedivorced! Dont bother dropping to your knees like you always do; it wont work this time!”* I slammed the door on our marriage.
Ian didnt believe me, of course. He was sure itd play out like always: hed grovel, apologize, buy me another ring, and Id forgive him. It had happened more times than I could count. But this time, I was done. My fingersright down to the pinkieswere covered in rings, but my life was empty. Ian was drowning in drink, lost to the bottle.
…It all started so romantically.
My first husband, Eddie, vanished without a trace back in the 90s. Terrifying times. Eddie had a temperalways picking fights. *Eyes of an eagle, wings of a gnat*, as they say. If something rubbed him wrong, hed explode. Im sure he got tangled in some nasty business and didnt make it out. No word from him. Just me left with our two girlsLily, five, and Rosie, two. Five years passed after he disappeared.
I thought Id lose my mind. Id loved Eddie, despite his temper. We were *thick as thieves*. One soul. I swore off menlife was over. Id raise the girls alone.
But fate had other plans.
Those were rough years. I worked at a factory, paid in *kettles* of all things. Had to sell them just to buy food. One freezing winter day, blue from cold at the market, a man took pity on me.
*”Youre freezing, love,”* he said gently.
*”What gave it away?”* I joked, teeth chattering. But his presence warmed me.
*”Silly question, eh? Fancy a cuppa? Ill help carry these.”*
*”Lets go. If I stand here, Ill turn to ice.”*
We never made it to the café. I dragged him near my flat, asked him to wait by the door with the kettles while I fetched the girls from nursery. Ran like the wind, numb with cold but glowing inside. When I returned, there he wasIan, hed said his name wassmoking, shifting foot to foot. *Might as well offer him tea*, I thought.
He helped haul the kettles up six flights (lift broken, naturally). By the time Id herded the girls to the third floor, he was already heading down.
*”Wait! You cant leave without a cuppa!”* I grabbed his sleeve with icy fingers.
*”Wont I be in the way?”* He glanced at the girls.
*”Nonsense! Hold their handsIll put the kettle on.”*
I didnt want to let him go. Already, he felt like family. Over tea, Ian offered me a jobbetter pay than a years worth of kettles. I nearly kissed his hands in gratitude.
Turns out, he was divorcing his second wife. Had a son from the first.
And just like that, life spun faster.
We married. He adopted my girls. Everything was *tickety-boo*bought a four-bed in Surrey, filled it with posh furniture, built a cottage in the Cotswolds. Yearly holidays to Spain. Pure bliss.
…For seven years. Then Ian, restless with his perfect life, started hitting the bottle. At first, I ignored it. *He works hard, needs to unwind.* But when he turned up drunk at work, I panicked. Pleading did nothing.
Now, Ive always been a gambler. To snap him out of it, I decided to… have his baby. At *thirty-nine*. My mates just laughed. *”Go on, Tabsmaybe well all be mums at forty!”*
Ive always said: *”Regret an abortion, never a child.”*
We had twins. Four girls now. Ian kept drinking. I endured, then dreamed of escapinga farm, fresh air, no time for pubs. Sold the flat, the cottage. Bought a village house, opened a bistro. Ian took up hunting. Things smoothed out… until he came home *wasted*.
No idea what hed drunk, but he *snapped*. Smashed plates, furniture, then grabbed his rifle and shot the ceiling! The girls and I fled to the neighbors.
Morning came. We crept back to carnageshattered home, Ian passed out on the floor. I packed what survived and marched the girls to Mums.
*”Oh, Tabs,”* she sighed. *”Go back. Every marriage has its storms.”* Mum believed in *grinning and bearing it* for a handsome husband.
Two days later, Ian showed up. Thats when I ended it. He didnt even remember his rampage. Called my stories *fairy tales*. But I was done. Bridges burned.
Sold the bistro for pennies, moved to the next village. The older girls found work, then husbands. The twins started secondary school. They still adored Ian, so I heard updates: hed quit drinking, moved to Manchester, stayed single. Left his address *just in case*.
Two years of loneliness ate at me. Pawned all my ringscouldnt afford to reclaim them. Missed our love, the way he doted on all the girls equally. *Every heart has its own happiness*, right?
Then the twins pried the truth from him: no new woman, sober, waiting.
Well… weve been back together five years now.
Told you Im a gambler.
