**Diary Entry – 12th June**
The moment my daughter finished school, I left my husband.
—Shameless!
—Poor bloke, how could she?
—Took the girl with her, the snake!
Everyone in the village of Oakfield pitied abandoned Edward. Family, neighbours, friends—they all believed his wife had lived like a queen, only to betray him the second their daughter finished school. Poor man, left alone at 55, abandoned by all! That’s what they said. But no one knew the truth. Behind this story lay years of pain, betrayal, and sheer survival.
I married Edward for love. He was fifteen years older, but he left his first wife and son for me, giving up half his property. Early on, he seemed perfect—attentive, strong, devoted. But after our daughter, Emily, was born, everything changed. Buried in motherhood, I didn’t notice him slipping away. He dumped all the chores on me, then stopped bringing money home entirely.
When Emily started nursery, I went back to work to keep us fed. Edward turned our flat in Chester into a den. His mates came round, drinking while I worked. I considered divorce, but fate struck harder. One of his friends fell asleep with a cigarette, and the flat burned to the ground.
Luckily, the neighbours were unharmed, but I lost everything: our home, our belongings, any sense of safety. Standing in the ashes with Emily in my arms, I had nowhere to go. I wanted to run, but for her sake, I held on. Borrowing from a neighbour, I booked a cheap hotel room. I wasn’t worried about Edward—I knew he’d land on his feet.
By morning, he found me. Grinning, he declared he’d “sorted it”—we’d move in with his mother in Oakfield. The idea horrified me. I’d have to quit my job, pull Emily from nursery, start over. But with no home, no money, and a child to care for, I agreed. Tears choked me, but I clenched my teeth, hoping the village would change him—maybe he’d sober up, grow up. How wrong I was.
In Oakfield, things got worse. His mother, kind but blind to his faults, never scolded him. Edward drank more, vanished for days, while I scraped by. I sewed, cleaned, sold bits at the market, saving every penny. The burned flat sold for nothing, and the money vanished into bills. I endured the humiliation, silent, clinging to one thought: wait until Emily finishes school, then flee.
Those years were hell. Edward didn’t work, lived off his mother and me, and I felt like a prisoner. I kept my plans secret, knowing he’d never let me go. When Emily got her A-levels, I packed our things and left quietly. Edward noticed two days later—he was on another bender.
The village gossiped. Edward spun tales of betrayal, claiming I’d run off with another man, leaving “poor old Eddie” in the lurch. They called me every name under the sun, painted me as the villain. But I didn’t care. I’d faked happiness for Emily’s sake too long.
Emily doesn’t blame me. She knows what I endured. She saw Edward a few times, but when he stopped helping her financially, contact fizzled. Now she doesn’t even think of Oakfield. She stands by me, knowing I saved us both.
I’m starting over—a tiny flat, a new job, plans forming. For the first time in years, I feel free. Let them talk. Let Edward spin his lies. I survived, for Emily and myself. But some pain lingers: how could the man I loved turn my life into this? I don’t regret leaving. Still, I wonder—could it have been different?
**Lesson learned:** Never mistake endurance for love. Sometimes the bravest thing is to walk away.
