I stood by the bay window, gripping my glass of Scotch so tightly my knuckles turned white. The clock on the mantel ticked ominously, each second dragging on longer than the last.
It was late. Far too late.
And then I saw the headlights.
A sleek black BMW slowed and stopped outside our terraced house. My breath caught in my chest. Behind the wheel was a mantall, confident, a stranger. Someone I didnt recognise.
Then the passenger door swung open.
And my wife stepped out.
A heavy knot twisted in my stomach. She smiledan open, warm smile I hadnt seen on her face for ages. She leaned in to say something to the driver and he laughed. Laughed.
After a brief moment, she shut the door, waved, and started up the path as the car pulled away.
My blood thundered, boiling in my veins.
How long had this been happening? How many nights had I slept soundly, while she came home in the car of another man?
The door clicked open and she came in, unconcerned, tossing her bag on the hall table.
Who was that? My voice was low and tight, brimming with accusation.
She stopped, startled. What?
That man you were with. Who is he?
She let out an exasperated sigh. For goodness sake, Michael. That was Sarahs husband, he gave me a lift home. Whats wrong with you?
But I wasnt listening anymore.
I couldnt hear anything over the roaring in my ears, the twisting thoughts poisoning my mind.
And then my hand moved before I knew it.
The smack rang out, shattering the silence.
She reeled back, her hand flying to her face. A thin line of blood beaded at the side of her nose.
A heavy, suffocating silence followed.
Her eyes widened and in them, I saw something Id never seen before. Fear.
My heart seized.
Id crossed a line.
One from which there was no return.
She didnt scream, didnt cryshe simply took her coat from the chair and walked out.
The next morning, the divorce papers arrived.
I lost everythingincluding my son.
Ive put up with your jealousy for years, she told me, voice cold and empty during our last conversation. But Ill never tolerate violence.
I pleaded for forgiveness, swearing it was a mistake, that I wasnt that man. It would never happen again.
It didnt matter.
And then the final blowshe told the court I was aggressive with our son, too.
A lie.
A vile, twisted lie. Id never shouted at him, never once touched him in anger.
But whod believe me? A man whod struck his wife?
The judge didnt hesitate.
She was granted full custody.
Me? Just a few hours a week. One supervised visit, in a public place.
No home. No bedtime stories. No mornings together making toast and eggs.
For six months, I lived for those fragile hours.
Those moments when hed run to me, laughter bubbling up, wrapping his arms around me and telling me about his day.
And every time, I had to let him go. Watch him walk away with her, while I remained alone.
Until the day he told me something that changed everything.
The truth my five-year-old son revealed.
He was growing up, beginning to notice things, to ask questions.
One day, while calmly playing with his toy cars, he said in his innocent little voice
Daddy, Mummy wasnt home last night. A lady came to look after me.
I froze.
A lady? What lady? I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
I dont know. She comes every time Mummy goes out at night.
My heart thudded, skipping a beat.
Where does Mummy go?
He shrugged. She doesnt tell me.
My hands trembled.
I began piecing things together. I had to know the truth.
And when I finally did, my vision dimmed.
Shed hired a nanny.
While I treasured every precious second with my little boy, she handed him over to a stranger.
I grabbed my phone and rang her.
Why is a stranger looking after our son, when Im right here?
Her voice was calm, uncaring. Because its easier.
Easier?! My jaw clenched. Im his father! If youre out, he should be with me!
She sighed. Michael, Im not going to bring him to you every time I have plans. This isnt about you.
I squeezed the phone until I thought it might break.
What could I do? Take her back to court? Fight for custody? And if I lost again?
One mistake.
One moments loss of control.
And Id lost everything.
But my son?
Him, I will never lose.
Ill fight for him.
Because he is all I have left.
Some mistakes can never be undone, no matter how deeply you regret them. In the end, jealousy and anger only destroy what you cherish most. The lesson is a bitter one: trust is fragile, and love cannot survive without respect and self-control.
