**Diary Entry**
He went to someone else. Twelve years later, he returned and spoke only a few words
He left for his mistress. And after 12 years, he came back and said only a handful of words
William and I married right after university. Back then, nothing seemed capable of tearing us apartyouth, dreams, shared plans, and a love that felt unshakable. We had two children together, Oliver and James. Theyre grown now, each with families, children, responsibilities of their own. But when they were young, I lived for them. For a family that was quietly crumblingthough I stubbornly refused to see it.
William had already begun to change in those days. First, the fleeting glances at the young checkout girls at Tesco or women on the street. Then, the mobile phone hed take to the loo and switch off at night. I knew, but I stayed quiet. I told myself I had to endure itfor the children. That any man might slip. That this would pass.
But it didnt.
When the boys grew up and moved on with their lives, the house fell silent. And then I realised: between William and me, only memories remained. I couldnt lie to myself anymore, pretending it was all for the family. And when another woman appeared in his lifeyounger, prettier, freerhe simply packed his things and left. No shouting, no explanations. Just the door slamming shut. Then, silence.
I didnt stop him. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at my tea as it went cold. Life split into “before” and “after.” Before28 years of marriage, holidays in Cornwall, nights in the childrens room when they were ill, kitchen renovations, rows over the telly remote. Afternothing but emptiness.
Slowly, I adjusted. I learned to live alone. There was peace in it: no hurt, no arguments, no fear of finding another womans texts on his phone. Sometimes I missed him. Sometimes Id remember him grumbling over breakfast about me buying “the wrong yogurt.” But with time, I missed the quiet more than the pastwhere I was never enough.
William vanished completely. Not a call, not a text. He only existed in conversations with the boys. They visited him, but rarely spoke of it to me. We became parallel lines in the same city, never crossing. Twelve years.
And then, he turned up.
It was an ordinary evening. I was making dinner when the doorbell rang. I opened it and barely recognised the man standing there. William looked like a strangershoulders hunched, eyes lifeless, an odd hesitation in his stance. Hed aged. His hair was grey now. Thinner. And there he stood, silent, as if he didnt even know why hed come.
“Can I come in?” he finally said. His voice was the same. But there was such deep sorrow in it that my fingers trembled on the doorknob.
I stepped aside. We sat in silence. Words wouldnt come. There was too much to sayand nothing worth saying. I made him tea. He turned the cup in his hands. Then, he sighed.
“Ive got no home left. That woman It didnt work. I left. Now I live where I can. My health isnt what it was. Everythings fallen apart”
I listened. And I didnt know what to say.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I made a mistake. You were always the only one. I just realised too late. Maybe we could try again? Even if its just to see”
My chest ached. Here was the man Id shared half my life with. The father of my children. The firstand, deep down, the onlyman Id ever loved. Wed dreamt of a cottage in the Cotswolds, argued over paint colours for the living room, weathered the mortgage and Olivers graduation.
But he stayed silent for 12 years. No birthday wishes. No asking how I was. And now he was back because he had nowhere else to go. Because he was alone.
I didnt answer right away. I only said, “I need to think.”
Days have passed since then. He hasnt come back, hasnt called. And I Im still thinking. Weighing it all. Reliving memories. Listening to my heart. Its broken, but it still beats. And now, its quiet.
I dont know if I should forgive him. I dont know if starting over is worth it. But one thing I do know: love isnt always the cure. Sometimes, its the scar. And before you reopen an old door, youd better be sure the same pain you once ran from isnt still waiting inside.
