**Diary Entry 12th November**
I realised my mistakes too late and wanted to return to my ex-wife after 30 years, but the chance was long gone
My name is Edward Whitmore, and I live in a quiet corner of Lincolnshire, where the grey skies stretch endlessly over the fields. At fifty-two, I have nothing leftno wife, no family, no job, just emptiness, like the cold wind howling through an abandoned house. I destroyed everything I had, and now I stand among the ruins of my life, staring into the abyss I dug with my own hands.
For three decades, I shared my life with my wife, Margaret. I was the breadwinner, working to support us while she kept our home. I liked having her there, safe, untouched by the world outside. But over time, I grew irritated by her attentiveness, her habits, the sound of her voice. Love faded, smothered by routine. I thought it was normalthat this was how life was meant to be. I settled into that dull stability. Then fate threw me a challenge I couldnt resist.
One evening at the pub, I met Claire. Thirty-two, twenty years younger than mebright, lively, with a spark in her eyes. She felt like a dream, a breath of fresh air in my stagnant life. We began seeing each other, and within months, she became my mistress. For two months, I led a double life, until I realised: I didnt want to go home to Margaret anymore. I thought I was in love with Claireor at least, I convinced myself I was. I wanted her to be my wife, my new beginning.
I finally confessed to Margaret. She didnt scream or throw platesjust looked at me with hollow eyes and nodded. I thought she didnt care either, that her feelings had died long ago. Now, I see how deeply I hurt her. We divorced. We sold the house where our children, Thomas and James, had grown up, where every corner held memories. Claire insisted I leave Margaret with nothing. I obeyedtook my share and bought a spacious flat for Claire. Margaret was left with a tiny bedsit, and I didnt even help her financially. I knew she had no income, no way to survive, but I didnt care. The boys turned their backs on mecalled me a traitor and cut all ties. Back then, it didnt matter. I had Claire, a new life, and I thought that was enough.
Claire got pregnant, and I eagerly awaited our child. But when he was born, something felt off. The boy didnt look like meor even like her. Friends whispered, my brother warned me, but I pushed the doubts aside. Life with Claire became hell. I worked myself ragged, supporting her, the child, while she demanded money, disappeared at night, came home drunk. The flat was a mess, no food, endless arguments over nothing. I lost my jobexhaustion and anger took their toll. I endured this nightmare for three years until my brother convinced me to take a DNA test. The result hit me like a hammer: the boy wasnt mine.
I divorced Claire the same day. She vanished, taking whatever she could carry. Left aloneno wife, no children, no strengthI decided to go back to Margaret. I bought flowers, wine, a cake, went to her like a grovelling dog. But another man now lived in her tiny flatthe new owner gave me her address. Trembling with hope, I went to her. A stranger opened the door. Margaret had found work, remarried a colleague, and seemed happyalive, radiant, in a way Id never seen before. She had rebuilt her life without me.
Later, I saw her at a café. I fell to my knees, begged her to come back. She looked at me like I was a pathetic fool and walked away without a word. Now I see the idiot I was. Why did I leave the woman I spent thirty years with? Why trade my family for a younger woman who drained me and left me broken? For an illusion, for blind faith in love? At fifty-two, I am empty. My sons wont answer my calls. My job slipped through my fingers like sand. I lost everything dear to me, and I have only myself to blame.
Every night, I dream of Margarether calm eyes, her voice, her warmth. I wake to the cold reality of loneliness and know: I pushed her away. She wont wait for me. She wont forgive me. And I dont deserve forgiveness. My mistake is a brand, burning my soul. I wish I could turn back time, but its too late. Far too late. Now I wander the streets of Lincoln like a ghost, searching for what I destroyed. I have nothingonly regret, which will follow me to the end. I ruined my family, my life, and I carry this weight alone, knowing theres no way to fix what Ive done.
