Everything changed in the blink of an eye. That particular day, we were celebrating a family occasionmy husband, daughter, and I were marking his father’s birthday. A cosy little get-together, just us and a rather enthusiastic cake. The old gent was in splendid spirits, cracking jokes, regaling us with ridiculous stories from his misspent youth, and generally keeping us all in stitches. After lunch, my daughter and I decided to walk him back to his flat. My husband, bless him, cant walk far these days because of his dodgy leg. More to the point, hed knocked back a fair amount of wine and would have struggled to find his own slippers, let alone venture out. I was sure we’d find him flat out when we got back. And what do you knowI was right. Hed nodded off right there at the dining table, slumped over his laptop.
Daughter retreated to her room with a book. I fancied a cup of tea, so I moved towards the kitchenwhen something on the laptop caught my eye. My husband had left himself logged in to his social media. Apparently, he’d meant to delete a message, but failed to do so. My curiosity, as ever, got the better of me. I crept closer for a look at the mysterious conversation And there it was: I love you. My vision swam. Hed sent it to some old friend of his. I wobbled back to the sofa like an extra in a drama series, planting myself down before my knees gave out completely.
Right then, all my father’s warnings came thundering back. Dad never liked my husband, always told me Id regret it one day, that hed be the source of my heartbreak. For nearly twenty-eight years, Id managed to prove the old man wrong. Wed been through heaps together. Id nursed my husband after his illness, cheered him on when his boss nudged him toward retirement because his sick notes were longer than War and Peace. He lived for work, so being made redundant was a proper blow. We got through it, though. He found another job, kept assuring me how grateful he was for my support, my love, and my care. And yethere we are. It was all a jolly performance.
I pulled myself together and went to my daughter. She looked over her book, instantly noticing my tearstraitors. I blurted out the whole sorry affair. She wasted no time; straight to her fathers computer she went. I was terrified by how fast she moved. She deleted the messages, but not before snapping photos for evidence. Reading my husbands flirty conversation with that woman was stomach-churning. Judging by the timestamps, it had only been going on for a month or solikely since he started his new job. My mind was in complete chaos.
Meanwhile, my daughter, never one to let an opportunity pass, started messaging the other woman. Something along the lines of, If you love him so much, by all meanscome collect. She took yet another screenshot. The woman promptly vanished from the chat, presumably never to be seen again. My daughter sent my husband the evidence, with a stern demand that he act like a grown man and leave. Then she enveloped me in a massive hug, repeating over and over that I was strong and that wed get through this togethershed always be by my side.
There was nothing left to do but wait for my husband to wake up. I had no clue how hed react. The next thing I know, his mobile starts ringingher, obviously. To my surprise, he answered, probably thinking we were still out. The call lasted less than a minute. I heard him shuffling about, getting dressed in our bedroom. As he passed us in the hallway, he paused. I couldnt even look at him; I just stared out the window at the street. My daughter, ever the comedian, gave him a cheery wave and a toothy grin. The next time I saw him, he was only back to gather a few of his things.
I still cant quite wrap my head around the fact that a family can be shattered so quickly, in a single moment. How can you ever trust a man again? Twenty-eight years. Beautiful gestures, heartfelt words. And in the enda divorce, and a house suddenly too big and much too quiet.
