Yesterday, I quit my job in a desperate attempt to save my marriage. But today, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve lost both.
Id worked at that firm for nearly eight years. I joined not long after getting married, and for ages it stood as my symbol of reliabilitysteady pay, a predictable timetable, our future mapped out with everything wed carefully saved. My wife, Emily, always knew how much all of it meant to me. We even talked for years about buying a house in the countryside thanks to what wed set aside. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that the biggest mistake in my marriage would begin at that very company.
About six months ago, Anna, the woman I betrayed Emily with, started at the office. At first, it was all perfectly innocent. She sat a few desks over, asked for help with the new software, wanted some tips, seemed a bit lost. Wed go to lunchat first, always as a group, then just the two of us. Shed talk about troubles with her partner, their rows and how unsure she felt. I listened. More and more, it became a daily thing. I started deleting texts just in case, put my phone on silent as soon as I got through the door at home, excused myself for extended meetings.
The affair happened one ordinary evening when we both worked late. It wasnt planned, nor was it especially romantic, but it was deliberate. I knew it was wrong the entire time. That evening, I came home and kissed Emily, like it was any other day. That shame is the hardest thing I carry now.
Emily found out weeks later. We were in our bedroom, and shed picked up my phone to find a number. She saw the messages immediatelythey were hardly subtle. She asked me directly. I was stunned, speechless. She sat very quietly for a few minutes, then asked me to tell her everything, every detail. So I did. We didnt sleep in the same bed that night.
The days that followed were unbearable at home. Emily asked for specificswhere, when, how many times, if it was still going on. I answered it all, without lies. One evening, she said something Ill never forget:
I dont know if I can ever forgive you, but I know I cant carry on seeing you go to that office every day.
That was how my job became part of the decision.
Her ultimatum was clearshe wasnt demanding, just honest. She said she needed to feel safe, and as long as I kept walking into that building, she couldnt move forward. She spelled it out: either I handed in my notice, or shed leave. No screaming. No tears. That, somehow, felt even heavier.
I spent nights wide awake, calculating the bills, our bank balance, what we owed, the mortgage. I knew resigning would mean wed instantly lose our main income. But I also knew that if I didnt go through with it, our marriage didnt stand a chance. Yesterday, I sat down with my manager, handed in my resignation, and walked out with this hollow feeling insidea strange blend of relief and absolute fear.
When I got home and told Emily, I thought shed be calmer. She did say she appreciated it, but made it clear that it didnt suddenly patch things up. She wasnt sure if shed ever trust me again. She needed time. She promised nothing.
So here I amwith no job, and a marriage frozen in limbo.
I cant yet tell whether Ive only lost my job
or if, in fact, Im losing my wife as well.
The lesson that hits me hardest is this: in trying to keep everything safe, I took both for grantednow I see that trust is far more fragile than I ever realised.
