My wife has always been incredibly shy. Among our friends, she was quiet and modest, never one to speak first or to start a conversation unless someone approached her. She never caused a fuss or made a scene out of jealousy. She would simply pay kind attention to me, never making demands, always accepting my gifts with genuine gratitude.
People would have called our marriage perfect. There were no secrets between us; we always dealt with everything together. After a long day at work, I could count on arriving home to a delicious meal, a smiling wife, and a tidy house. What more could a man ask for?
But as it often goes even with my near-perfect home life, I found myself craving a bit of excitement. There was something, particularly about our private life, that left me unsatisfied. In truthwe barely had one at all. Unable to ignore it any longer, I foolishly decided to take on a mistress.
I never imagined my wife would find out, but she did, and then we parted ways.
I moved in with my mistress, and it was only then I came to realise how reckless I had been. The flat was always in a state, and after work, there was no warm dinner waiting for me. Conversations were strained, and in truth, we hardly had anything in common.
When I finally decided to return to my wife, it was already too late. She had met someone new.
I will never forgive myself for that. Through my own stupidity, I lost the perfect woman.
