In life, everything comes full circle… My husband filed for divorce and went back to his ex!
I thought I was an expert in the game of love. However, life taught me a harsh lesson: every action has consequences, and sooner or later, you have to face them.
I got married at 25—not too early, but not late either. The desire to avoid returning to my small hometown, where everyone knows everyone, pushed me to stay in London. Here, I could enjoy the anonymity I had longed for.
My friend’s boyfriend…
Enter Daniel. Tall and brown-eyed, he was my school friend Claire’s boyfriend. But that only fueled my desire to win him over. Daniel, seemingly open to flirting behind Claire’s back, was intrigued.
We began seeing each other, casually and behind Claire’s back. I wasn’t exclusive in my dating life and made no secret of it. Daniel knew he wasn’t the only man in my life, yet he wasn’t exactly free himself, right?
One day, Daniel watched me step out of another man’s car. Once the car drove off, Daniel approached me, saying we needed to talk. He confessed he couldn’t share me with others and couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. He suggested he break up with Claire so we could live together. The idea appealed to me—it offered a convenient living situation and irked the snooty Claire.
We moved in together, but within weeks, I grew bored and craved excitement and adventure. Realizing this, I ran into Jack—an old flame with whom I shared fun times. We grabbed coffee, relaxed, and ended up at his flat. It was exciting and refreshing. Two weeks later, we met again, beginning a casual, obligation-free affair.
I slowly returned to my former lifestyle, dating various men. I eventually left Daniel, leaving a note: “I no longer want to live together.” Simple, with no explanations.
The unexpected twist…
A month later, I found out I was expecting. Scared, I went back to Daniel. Upon learning about the pregnancy, he proposed marriage. I agreed—not out of love but because it seemed the most straightforward solution. Plus, it kept me from returning to a dull, small-town life.
A year after our son was born, I became pregnant again—another boy. Caring for two young children and managing the household consumed all my time. Daniel worked long hours, driven and often staying late. Perhaps he was avoiding coming home to a tired wife and noisy kids. I wasn’t great company—constantly exhausted and irritable, eagerly awaiting Daniel’s return to start complaining.
But… the reckoning came.
You might wonder who my eldest son’s father is—Daniel or one of my past flings? I deemed it irrelevant. Maybe it was Daniel, maybe not. I reassured myself, “Everyone makes mistakes; I was young, it wasn’t intentional…”
To this day, I don’t know my eldest son’s father and likely never will. Everyone believes it’s Daniel—him, our son, and family.
However, does it matter if Daniel stopped caring for the children anyway? Not out of paternity doubts. One evening, when they were 4 and 2, I came home to a note: “I’ve filed for divorce. It’s not working between us.”
We divorced. Now, I’m raising the children alone. Daniel pays child support, which barely suffices. At least he left us the flat to live in until the kids come of age.
And Daniel did marry… Claire. They’re now expecting their first child.
