Id first noticed Mabel at university in Manchester, and I thought she was the sort of woman Id been dreaming about. It felt like a blind, naïve love at the time, and when she finally started paying me any attention I lost my head completely. Honestly, it was a few years after Id graduated, when we both ended up in the same firm in Leeds wed studied the same discipline, so that wasnt unusual. Still, I told myself it must be fate.
She seemed like the perfect partner, and back then I didnt mind that she was already married. Id never been married myself, so I had no real idea what a broken marriage looked like, and I felt no shame when Peter my wifes name was Helen, Im talking about my own husband decided to leave her for me. Who could have guessed it would bring me so much pain? As the saying goes, you cant build your happiness on anothers misery.
When she chose me, I was on cloud nine and ready to forgive anything. Yet in everyday life she wasnt the charming lady she appeared to be in public. Her belongings were strewn all over the flat, and she outright refused to wash the dishes. All the housework fell on my shoulders, but at the time I didnt mind a bit.
She quickly forgot her old marriage. Theyd never had children; it turned out her parents had pushed the marriage in the first place. With me, she kept saying things would be different.
My bliss was shortlived, because everything changed when I discovered I was pregnant. At first, Peter was thrilled about the baby. We even threw a big family gathering to celebrate, and everyone wished us lots of love and good health for the little one.
That evening remains one of my fondest memories, and I have no regrets about it. But from that point on, my blind devotion began to fade.
The bigger my belly got, the rarer Peters visits became. I was on maternity leave, so we only met late at night. He stayed late at the office and attended countless work parties. It didnt bother me at first, but soon it wore me out. The chores grew harder I could no longer simply bend down to pick up his socks scattered around.
I often wondered whether wed rushed into having a child.
I knew feelings could wane over time, but I hadnt expected it to happen so quickly. Peter still brought me flowers and chocolate, yet all I wanted then was his presence.
It didnt take long for his frequent outings to look suspicious. A colleague mentioned offhand that a new junior had joined our department. Staffing was already thin, and when I went on maternity leave the shortage became critical. How ironic.
I wasnt sure it was her, but my husband clearly had someone else, because he never had a free minute. It was either work, a meeting, or another corporate function he couldnt miss. One day I found a scrap of paper in his jacket pocket with initials I didnt recognise. I cant say what made me pick it up, but I slipped it back and pretended Id seen nothing.
Being alone at seven months pregnant was terrifying, and still Peter kept complaining that Id become too nervous. Every argument ended with a sigh of disappointment from him. I somehow understood that if I raised the issue, Id end up on my own. The fear of losing him grew so strong that I could think of nothing else. They say if you worry too much about something, it eventually happens.
No matter how smoothly Peter had courted me, he was no gentleman. The worst words I ever heard were, Im not ready for a child, and, I have someone else. I cant even recall exactly how he said it, but at that moment I thought I was losing my mind.
I never imagined Id find the courage to file for divorce. He hadnt expected me to put up with his behaviour, nor that Id toss all his things out the next day. I was glad we rented a flat at least we didnt have to share a house.
And the baby? What will you do about him?
Ill manage. Ill work from home, and my parents have always offered help. My mother warned me he was a bit of a philanderer I should have listened.
Perhaps responsibility for my future son gave me the confidence I lacked. Alone, I would never have mustered the bravery to leave.
I also realised I didnt want to raise a child with a father like him. His betrayal was so cowardly that I cut all ties. It was as if a veil lifted from my eyes.
The first months after the divorce, including the birth, were extremely hard. I moved back in with my parents, which delighted them, especially my grandparents, who were thrilled to have a grandson. I cant say I didnt miss Peter at all, but I tried not to dwell on him. Deep down I was convinced Id made the right choice and could give my son everything he needed.
Then, out of nowhere, he turned up again.
It turns out Peter is full of remorse now. He wants to meet his son. But do I want that? Maybe its time I moved to another city, perhaps to Bristol, and start anew.
