I finally saw what Id done. I wanted to go back to my ex-wifethe woman Id spent 30 years withbut by then, it was far too late.
Im 52 now. And Ive got nothing. No wife, no family, no kids, no jobnothing.
My names Nigel. I lived three decades with my wife, Margaret. I always earned the living, and she took care of the home. I never wanted her to work. I liked her being there, keeping things comfortable. But over time, she started to get on my nerves.
We carried on, polite and civil, but the love had fizzled out. I thought that was normal. I was fine with it. Then, everything changed. One night at a pub, I met Poppy. She was 20 years younger than megorgeous, sweet, and funny. Like a dream come true.
We started seeing each other, and soon enough, she became my mistress. Two months in, I realised I didnt want to lie to Margaret anymore. I dreaded going home after work. I knew I was in love with Poppy, and I wanted her to be my wife.
A few days later, I told Margaret the truth. She didnt shout or cry. Just stayed quiet. I assumed she didnt love me eitherthats why she took it so calmly. Only now do I understand how deeply Id hurt her.
We divorced. We sold the house wed spent years in together. Poppy insisted I shouldnt leave Margaret a penny. So I didnt. Margaret bought a tiny flat. With my savings, I got a two-bedder for Poppy.
I didnt help my ex-wife, not a single pound. I knew she had no money and wouldnt find work straight away. At the time, I didnt care. Our sons refused to speak to me. They knew Id betrayed their mum, and they couldnt forgive me.
Back then, it didnt bother me. Poppy was pregnant, and we were excited. Soon, a son was born. But the boy looked nothing like meor Poppy, for that matter. My mates doubted he was mine. I ignored them.
Life with Poppy was a mess. I worked long hours, cleaned, cooked, looked after the baby. Poppy just asked for money and went out constantly. The house was a tip, dinners never made. Shed stumble home at 3 AM, reeking of wine, picking fights over nothing.
Eventually, I lost my job. Tired, angry, I couldnt focus. Three years passed like that. Then my brotherwho never liked Poppy and always suspected the boy wasnt mineforced me to get a DNA test. Turns out, he was right.
We divorced the second the truth came out. By then, I had no contact with Margaret or my sons. After Poppy, I decided to go back to my first wife. I bought flowers, wine, a cake, and went to her old place. Turned out, shed moved. The new owner gave me her address.
I went there. A man answered the door. Margaret had landed a good job and married a colleague. She was happyreally happy.
A while later, I bumped into her at a café. I asked her to take me back. She looked at me like I was daft and walked off. Now, I see my mistake. What did I want? What did I actually gain? Why did I leave my wife for some young thing?
Im 52 now. And Ive got nothing. No wife, no job, not even my sons will talk to me. I lost everything that ever mattered. And its all my fault. Worst part? I can never fix it.
