**Diary Entry**
I found myself on the same edge of the bed where I had collapsed the night before. My eyes burned, my mouth was dry, my head throbbed. My phone buzzed again and again, but I couldnt bring myself to answer. I knew who it wasMum, my sister, maybe a friend. What could I have said? How could I put into words that the man Id built my life with had packed up and walked out in a single night?
I crept into the kitchen. My son was still asleep. I boiled water for tea, but my hands shook so badly I spilled it across the table. I watched the liquid spread, too numb to wipe it away. The silence around me wasnt peacefulit was the kind that comes after destruction.
*Two months till the hearing.* His words echoed in my skull like a sentence. As if Id already been judged, with no say in my own future.
That day, I didnt go to work. I texted my boss: *Personal matter. Back tomorrow.* I couldnt explain more.
When my son woke, he looked at me with those big brown eyesso like his fathersand asked only one thing:
*Mum, wheres Dad?*
The pain twisted inside me. I knelt, smoothed his hair, and told the first lie Id ever invented for him:
*He had to go away. Well talk to him later.*
I couldnt bear the truth then. I wanted to shield him, even for just a few days.
That evening, the message came: *Ive arrived. Dont contact me. Well speak through solicitors.*
No questions about his son. No concern. Just cold words. I deleted it, but the letters burned behind my eyelids.
The days dragged, dull and heavy. Mornings at work, afternoons home, helping my son with his schoolwork, smiling as if nothing was wrong. But at night, once he slept, I crumpled to the floor and wept in silence.
Friends found out slowly. Some told me to move on; others urged me to fight for what was mine. Mums voice was the strongest:
*Sweetheart, dont break over a man who threw your heart away. Youre strong. You have your boy. Hes your greatest treasure.*
I nodded, but inside, I was still in ruins.
The first real clash came at the solicitors office. He walked in confidently, his jacket crisp, smelling of colognebeside him, the new woman, dark-haired and smiling, dripping with gold and jewels.
My stomach clenched, but I straightened. For my son, I couldnt show weakness.
*Well sell the house and split the proceeds,* his solicitor said, as if discussing a flat, not the home where our child took his first steps.
*No. My son needs stability. We stay. He can have other assets, but the house stays.*
He looked at me coldly: *You dont decide. The court does.*
Rage flared, but I swallowed it. *The court will hear our sons voice too.*
For a second, he wavered. He knew our boy loved himbut felt his absence too.
The hearing dragged on for months. I was exhausted, but I learned to stand firm. I worked, cared for my son, and rebuilt my life. One day, he brought home a school assignment. On the page, hed written: *The strongest person in my life is my mum.*
I sobbednot from pain this time, but gratitude.
In court, the judge turned to my son: *Who do you want to live with?*
He looked at me, then at his father, and answered slowly, firmly: *Mum. She never left me.*
It was like mountains sliding off my shoulders. My ex-husbands face twisted; his smile collapsed.
Weeks later, the ruling came: the house was ours. He got other assets. Full custody stayed with me.
Stepping out of the courthouse, I felt free for the first time in months. Rain fell, but every drop felt healing.
My son took my hand and said simply: *Mum, lets go home.*
*Home.* Not a shared flat, not a place where Id criedbut ours, just ours.
Then I understood: life wasnt over. It was only just beginning.
Maybe Ill never again be the slim, cheerful, pretty woman he wanted. But Ill be something far stronger: a mother. A woman who rebuilt from the ruins and learned to shape her own future.
And no matter how hard he tried to poison me with words like *no one wants a woman over thirty-five*I knew he was wrong. Life opens again, somewhere else, in a different light.
For the first time in ages, I smiled*really* smiledand whispered to myself: *This wasnt the end. It was the start.*
