Emma, you and your husband share the blame for the split, DrSarah Bennett said, looking straight at me.
Me? No, it was him that ruined the family! I snapped.
Emma, when a couple divorces the fault is usually split 5050. Not 9010 or 6040, but an even half. You just couldnt make it work, she replied calmly.
What should I do? Ive got two girls. He loves them, but I cant stand him. How am I supposed to manage? I hoped shed have a magic wand to set things straight.
First, take a breath, Emma. You cant rush in at full speed or youll smash yourself. Wholl look after the children? They need a steady mum, not a panicked one. So, are you thinking about new relationships?
Never! Not a chance. Im not going to get hurt again, I said, tears starting to spill.
Dont be in a hurry. Youre still young, lifes ahead of you, she said gently. Why did you marry in the first place?
For happiness, I whispered, sobbing harder.
Right. Everyone wants a big happy life, yet so many end up divorcing. School teaches us maths, not how to keep a marriage together. The result? Couples rush into marriage, then rush out with tears. And the years slip by, youth fades fast.
I gave everything to the family! I put up with Peter for fifteen years, and he was as useless as a wilted flower. He never noticed anything. He got boring. I cant even look at him now. Our love is shattered, I vented.
Lets try a little experiment, Emma, DrBennett said with a playful smile.
What kind of experiment? I perked up.
I bet youll want to try dating again at some point. How about you pick a practice boy, so you can brush up on the art of living with a man? Someone you feel comfortable with, she suggested, eyes twinkling.
Where on earth am I supposed to find such a fool? I asked, baffled.
You dont have to look far. Your practice boy could be your exhusband.
My what?
Well, you dont really miss him, do you? If he walks out, it wont matter. Its a winwin, Emma, she said convincingly.
I thought about it. I wasnt risking much; I didnt feel sorry for Peter Hughes. Let him go.
Peter had become such a nuisance that, after gathering Lily and Sophie, I moved into a tiny flat in East London. We went to court, the divorce was final, and Peter begged me to reconsider. I burned that bridge.
I had no men on the horizon; after fifteen years of marriage I just craved some space. Peter started panicking, sending cheap presents, flowers, even inviting me to a spa. It was a belated show of affection that left me exhausted. He still couldnt accept that it was over.
When I settled into my new flat with the girls, I felt a weight lift. I sighed with relief, feeling like I was finally in heaven, floating on clouds.
Then the girls brought me crashing back to earth.
Mom, whats wrong with Dad? Lily asked.
I was stunned. How do I tell them that life with their father is over, that his words are just empty wind, that everything feels cramped and grey? Thats when I decided to go back to DrBennett for some guidance.
So the experiment began. A month after the split I called Peter.
Hey, Peter! How are you? Want to meet up? I have a few things Id like to discuss.
Emma? Of course, any time! he replied, sounding thrilled.
We met on a bench in HydePark that evening. He kept inching closer, trying to take my hand. We chatted about nothing at all. No heavy questions. He walked me home, planted a quick kiss on my cheek, and gave the girls a small treat.
Back at my flat I glanced out the window; Peter was still standing outside. I waved, and he sent a cheeky airkiss back.
Those little dates with my ex felt oddly satisfying. No fights, no broken dishes, just a dash of colour returning to my life.
We started meeting once a monthsometimes at a café, sometimes at the cinema, sometimes back in the park. My days began to feel stitched together with joy. I was beginning to imagine a future where my path and Peters could somehow line up.
A year went by.
Peter, are we still on for today? I asked, hopeful.
Sorry, Emma, Im swamped. Ill ring you when Im free, he said, hanging up.
That happened three or four times. I started to get jittery. Had someone else slipped into his life? Was he genuinely busy? Jealousy crept in and I needed answers.
I called him again.
Peter, the girls miss you. Lets take them to the zoo.
Emma, Ive got a wife in the maternity ward, Peter blurted.
What wife? Are you kidding me? I shouted.
No joke. Were expecting a baby, Lilys on the way, he said.
My mouth went dry. All I could manage was, Goodbye then. I wish you all the happiness in the world.
