I see now what Ive done. I wanted to return to my ex-wife, with whom Id spent thirty years, but it was already too late
Im fifty-two now. And I have nothing. No wife, no family, no children, no jobnothing.
My name is Edward. I lived thirty years with my wife, Margaret. I always worked to provide for the family, while she kept the home. I never wanted her to work. I was happy to have her at home. But as time passed, she began to grate on my nerves.
We lived together, respecting one another, but the love faded. I thought it was natural. It suited me well enough. Then everything changed. One evening, in a pub, I met Rebecca. She was twenty years younger than me. She was beautiful, kind, and wittylike a dream come true.
We began seeing each other, and soon she became my mistress. Two months later, I realised I no longer wanted to lie to my wife. I no longer wished to return home after work. I knew then that I loved Rebecca and wanted her as my wife.
A few days later, I told Margaret the truth. She didnt make a scene. She stayed perfectly calm. I thought she didnt love me either, which was why she took it so well. Only now do I understand how deeply I wounded her.
We divorced. We sold the house where wed spent so many years together. Rebecca insisted I not leave it to my ex-wife. So I didnt. Margaret bought a small flat. With my savings, I bought a modest house for Rebecca.
I didnt help my ex-wife. I didnt give her a single penny. I knew she had no money and wouldnt find work straightaway. But at the time, I didnt care. Our sons refused to speak to me. They sensed Id betrayed their mother and wouldnt forgive me.
Back then, it didnt trouble me. Rebecca was pregnant, and we eagerly awaited the child. Soon, a son was born. But the boy looked nothing like menor even Rebecca. My friends doubted he was mine. I refused to listen.
Life with Rebecca grew bitter. I worked long hours, tended the house, and cared for the child. Rebecca only ever asked for money and was always out somewhere. The house was a mess, meals were never ready. Shed return at three or four in the morning, reeking of drink, picking fights over nothing.
In the end, I lost my job. I was exhausted, angry, and my work suffered. For three years, my life was like that. Then my brother, whod never liked Rebecca and always doubted the boy was mine, pressured me into a paternity test. It proved the child wasnt mine.
We divorced as soon as the truth came out. By then, Id had no contact with my wife or sons for years. After leaving Rebecca, I decided to return to Margaret. I bought flowers, wine, a cake, and went to her old address. But Margaret no longer lived there. The new owner gave me her new one.
I went to see her. A man answered the door. It turned out Margaret had found good work and married a colleague. She was happyflourishing, even.
Some time later, I ran into her at a café. I asked her to take me back. She looked at me as though I were mad, then left without a word. Now, I see the mistake I made. What did I want? What did I gain? Why did I leave my wife for a younger woman?
Im fifty-two now. And I have nothing. No wife, no job, not even my sons will speak to me. Ive lost everything that ever mattered. And its entirely my own fault. Worse still, I can never put it right.
