**What About Me? Am I the Odd One Out?**
*”I cant go on like this. Goodbye, Edward.”* That note I wrote without a single exclamation mark, in perfect calm. Edward would never read it. After a moments thought, I burned it.
Long ago, Edward and I had fallen into a love that burned like wildfireconsuming, relentless, and reckless. We raced toward ruin without a care for who might be hurt.
Edward had a wife and three young children. I had two sons and a husband. Everyone we knew thought wed lost our minds. *”Have you gone mad? Think of your families!”* But Edward and I noticed nothing beyond each other. To us, the world had narrowed to just the two of us. No obstacles, no regrets.
In the quiet after our stormy passions, I sometimes wonderedI never wanted children with Edward. Never.
He spoke of his own children with detachment:
*”Im not one to dote on kids. My wife always wanted more. What did it matter to me?”*
Honestly, that unsettled me. But I never planned to marry him! Let them have their brood, I thought. That was their affair.
Three years later, Edward and I wed. We were happy, content. My sons, of course, stayed with me.
Then Edwards children grew older, and the troubles begana ceaseless cycle of demands. Phone calls at midnight, sudden visits to his workplace, urgent pleas for money.
Moneyor rather, the lack of it. All three needed constant support. Edward gave what he could, burdened by guilt, unable to refuse. I understood. His children understood tooand shamelessly exploited it. Every whim was indulged. I pitied them, though I knew they saw me as the villain whod stolen their father.
Years passed. Grandchildren arrivedfive so far, though more would surely come. Edwards eldest daughter fled an abusive husband with nothing but slippers on her feet. She needed helpthree little ones to feed. His youngest lived on welfare, a single mother who spent beyond her means yet never fretted, drifting through life without a care.
Then there was the middle sona hopeless drunkard, perpetually soused, paying child support to an ex-wife. Since he couldnt hold a job, Edward handed over the money himselffrom *our* savings. The granddaughter from that union was the spitting image of Edward. He adored her more than the others, his heart forever tethered to the girl.
Such a tangled mess
Edward was drowning in debt, though his children never guessed. Only I knewand my sons, who urged me to leave this *”sponsor to strangers.”* Once, I asked Edward for perfumejust once. He blinked in surprise:
*”Darling, you know Ive no sense of smell. Whats the point? Butfine, Ill get it soon.”*
*”Soon? In eight years, perhaps,”* I replied bitterly.
I stopped asking. I already knew the excuses: *”Margaret needs the private maternity suitewhy not the shared ward?” “The granddaughter must have a fur coatwont a regular puffer do?” “The thirty-year-old son needs new shoeshis old ones have holes.”*
Our quarrels were always about Edwards grown children. After every row, Id say, *”If we ever divorce, Edward, thank your brood for it!”* And yet he swore he couldnt live without me.
But what about me? Im exhausted. I want my own lifenot one ruled by Edwards children. Their names ring through our home like funeral bells.
I think of a line from an old film: *”Well, Im no orphan either, thank heavens!”* I have my own children and grandchildren who need love. Why couldnt I have stopped myself twenty years ago?
The devil is a cunning playwright. He scripts each mans fate. I wouldnt wish his traps on anyone. My fault, I suppose. As the saying goes, *”You reap what you sow.”* The fiery nights faded. What was once a bottomless lovenow Ive hit the very depths.
My eldest son moved awaya family, a job. Hes asked me to join him for years.
Im leaving for good. Its decided. I wrote Edward a farewell notethen burned it. Hell understand. Or he wont. A note wont change that.
P.S. I visited my children, my grandchildren. Stayed with my younger son in Germanymarried to a strict woman from Düsseldorf. Their *kind* speaks not a word of English. What he sees in her, Ill never know. But love isnt logical, is it?
Theyre all settled, happy. And me? At last, peace.
A month later, I returned to Edward. I dont think he realised Id meant to leave forever. Still, he gave me that expensive French perfume at last
