Honestly, I felt a sort of relief when I heard my ex-husband had lost everything. I know its not the nicest thing to admit, but Id rather be honest with you.
We were married for fifteen years. When we tied the knot, he already had his house and a pretty settled life. My son and I moved in with him because Id become a mum quite young. From day one, he was upfront about one thing he couldnt have children. I knew, I accepted it, and never threw it in his face. On his end, he never treated my son any differently. He was there for him, helped raise him, took him to school, bought him clothes, all the usual dad stuff. At the time, I really believed Id made the right choice.
I never bothered to check the bills or any paperwork not because I couldnt, but because I trusted him. Hed always say, This is ours, and Everything I have is for the family. The house, the furniture, all the expenses. Years later, he bought himself a new car and told me, You can keep the old one. It wasnt a wreck, just an older model. It was actually my first car, and I never asked whose name it was under. He handed me the keys, and I just took them.
One day, he left me for another woman. I went through all the pain you go through after fifteen years of marriage the heartbreak, the questions, sleepless nights, that awful feeling that everything youd built had vanished overnight. The divorce papers came, tense conversations followed, and gradually I realised our marriage was never as much ours as I thought.
Turns out, absolutely everything was in his mums name the home wed lived in for fifteen years, the business hed always called his pride and joy, the accounts, even the car I thought was mine. Legally, none of it belonged to him or me. I was left with the bare minimum, barely more than symbolic. I couldnt even stay in the house Id called home for half my life because he owned it before we got married. I left with a suitcase, my son, and a bunch of questions no one could answer.
At forty, I had to start over. I hadnt worked in years, but my backgrounds in health and social care, so I took a job looking after an elderly gentleman in his home. Long shifts, little sleep, a constant ache in my back. Sometimes Id come home to my mums spare room and wonder how I couldve been so naïve. Bit by bit, though, I picked myself back up. Two years later, I managed to buy a little flat. Still paying it off, but its mine. Every payment feels like a bit of my dignity returning.
Then, one day, I heard what happened to him. His mum passed away, and with her went all the things he counted as his. The properties, which had always been in her name, got split up amongst all the heirs as per the law. (Turns out he had siblings I never even knew about.) He tried to prove that, in reality, the assets were his, but legally theres nothing he could do. He lost his house, his business, his car everything.
When I was told, I stayed silent. And then, unexpectedly, I felt relief. Not happiness, not spite just a quiet sense that, for the first time, things were balanced. I know its not pretty, feeling like that. But I also know what its like to have everything taken away from you, out of the blue, simply because you trusted someone.
Do you reckon Im a bad person for moving on with my life?
