Mum, imagine thisDads new wife is ill, they say its something serious.
Let me tell you a story that happened to me ten years ago. I raised two daughters with my husband, both now at university. I was looking forward to this time in life, thinking my husband and I would start anew. But he made a different choicehe betrayed me with his secretary.
Im sorry, I never meant to hurt you, he said, but I love her.
That evening, he packed his things and left for a woman half his age. The girls were furious with him and refused to speak to him. It was agony for me, especially when the younger one tried to mend things between us. I wish I could erase that year from memorytime didnt heal the wounds, just taught me to live with them. I threw myself into my hobby, growing rare plants and selling them. It kept me from drowning in grief.
Eventually, my daughters reconciled with their father and occasionally told me about his new life. He was happy with that woman, and later, she gave him a son.
Mum, imagineshes sick, they reckon its serious.
Girls, stop talking about them, I dont like it, Id say, because deep down, I still loved my husband. The thought of him with someone else twisted inside me. So many years had passed, yet in my heart, he was still mine.
Then, one Saturday morning, I woke to a shadow looming over me. I thought it was a dream, until my husbands trembling voice broke the silence: Sorry, I know its early. But II dont know what to do with the boy. He looked aged, hair streaked with grey. Behind him stood a little lad. Their son.
My wife passed last night, he went on. Ive the funeral to arrange, the girls are at workI just cant take him. Hes too young.
The boy was no older than nursery age. Dazed, I stared at the child, and suddenly, he piped up:
Are you my auntie?
No, I snapped, ready to shut the door.
Mum said we had no one.
I never even knew your mother.
But he was so sweetinnocent in all this. I realised he wasnt to blame and agreed to help my ex.
Do you like porridge? Come to the kitchen. Have breakfast, then your dad will fetch you.
I made coffee for myself, porridge for the boy. Watching him, I saw echoes of my daughters at that age. We spent the morning watching cartoons, leafing through their old storybooks. He was gentle, clever.
After that, my husband started bringing his son round often. We became close, oddly enough. My girls arent thinking of children yet, so the boy filled that spacea sort of grandson, in a way.
Its been two years since his wife died. Recently, he asked if we might live together. Part of me wants it desperatelyI can picture us, a proper family again. But the hurt lingers. Can I truly trust him?
If we try and fail, its the boy wholl suffer. So Im torn. I love them both. Yet the fear of being deceived again wont leave me.
