In those distant days of my youth, my former wife and I only truly got along during the earliest part of our relationship. We passed through that pleasant phase of chocolates and bouquets, convincing ourselves we were madly in love. But the day we discovered a child was on the way, and our parents were quick to insist on a wedding, the cracks quietly began to show between us. Not so much that we would separate after a single year of marriage and once we had a son, but enough that we would quarrel several times a week over trifles.
Fortunately for us, I devoted most of my hours to my work, while my wife stayed at home with the baby, giving us a welcomed chance to be apart. As long as our paths rarely crossed and I doted on our son in my spare hours, it never seemed unbearable. Perhaps that is why, when our boy turned four, we felt emboldened to welcome a second child into our lives.
That second child brought us somewhat closer, making us believe our family life was, if not perfect, at least manageable. We became preoccupied with the endless cycle of babysitting, illnesses, and all that comes with small children.
Soon enough, a third child arrived. I took up even more responsibilities and extra work, with my wifes full consent. Saving money had never been our strong suit, so, wanting to spare the children from ever feeling deprived, I worked as hard as I could. I also tried to spoil my wife with such kindness as I could muster, yet, as it turned out, it was never enough. She prepared the divorce papers when our eldest was eleven and our youngest just four, calmly informing me that she had found another man.
This in itself did not truly shock me. I had long expected that she might meet someone new, given all the hours she was free between school runs and nursery pick-ups. It was I who had buried myself in work, always thinking of how best to provide for the family. Yet I was struck by her eagerness to leave the children in my care entirely.
For years, she claimed motherhood as her burden, always at their side, and now, it seemed, she had grown weary of them almost overnight, even making threats. She told me that if dragging the children into her new marriage was required, she would rather see them sent off to a childrens home or something of the sort. She and her new beau, it seemed, had their dreams of starting afresh with a child of their own, and she wanted nothing to do with the ones we shared.
