In life, everything comes full circle… My husband filed for divorce and went back to his ex!
I always thought I was skilled in the game called love. However, life served me a harsh lesson: every action has its consequences, and sooner or later, one must pay the price.
I got married at 25—not too young, but not too old either. The desire to avoid returning to the small town where everyone knows everyone pushed me to stay in Manchester. Here, I could finally enjoy the anonymity I had always dreamed of.
A friend’s boyfriend…
Enter Richard. Tall and brown-eyed, he was the boyfriend of my school friend, Lucy. This only fueled my excitement to win him over. Richard didn’t seem to mind flirting behind Lucy’s back either.
Playfully, we started seeing each other while he was still with Lucy. I never limited myself in meeting new people, and I didn’t hide it. Richard knew he wasn’t the only one in my life, but he wasn’t truly available either, right?
One day, Richard saw me getting out of another man’s car. He waited until the car drove away, then approached me to say we needed to talk. He told me he didn’t want to share me with others and couldn’t imagine himself with anyone else. He proposed ending things with Lucy and starting a life together with me. The idea appealed to me, especially because it solved my housing issue and allowed me to get back at the aloof Lucy.
We moved in together, but within weeks I got bored and yearned for excitement and variety. I realized this when I bumped into Tom—an old fling with whom I had lots of fun. We went for coffee, relaxed, and ended up at his place. It was refreshing and fun. Two weeks later, we did it again, and thus began our arrangement for pleasure, without commitments.
Gradually, I fell back into my old lifestyle, seeing different men. Eventually, I left Richard, leaving a note: “I don’t want to live together anymore.” Simple and without explanation.
An unexpected twist…
A month later, I found out I was pregnant. Panic-stricken, I returned to Richard. He proposed marriage upon learning of the pregnancy. I agreed, not out of crazy love, but thinking it was the easiest and most sensible decision. Plus, it kept me from returning to the dull small town.
A year after our son was born, I got pregnant again—with another boy. Taking care of two small children and managing the household consumed all my time. Richard worked a lot, was ambitious, and often stayed late. Perhaps he was just in no hurry to come home to a grumpy wife and noisy kids. I wasn’t exactly great company: tired, irritable, with no free time. I waited for Richard’s return to begin complaining.
But… the reckoning came.
Perhaps you wonder who the father of my oldest son is. Richard or one of my former escapades? I deemed it unimportant. Maybe it’s Richard, maybe not. I told myself, “Everyone makes mistakes; I was young; it wasn’t intentional…”
To this day, I still don’t know who my eldest son’s father is, and I probably never will. Everyone believes it’s Richard—him, our son, and our family.
But does it matter when Richard stopped caring for the children anyway? Not because he doubts their parentage. One evening, when the kids were 4 and 2, I came home to find a note: “I’ve filed for divorce. Things aren’t working between us.”
We divorced. Now I’m raising the children on my own. Richard pays child support, which barely suffices. At least he left us the flat—to live in until the children reach adulthood.
And Richard did marry… Lucy. And now they are expecting their first child.
