He left me with three kids and elderly in-laws—ran off to Spain with his mistress.
I couldn’t hold onto him.
It all started on my birthday.
At the time, I was living in a village with little money, and the city shop windows were filled with so many beautiful things that made my head spin.
I especially fell in love with a pair of sandals.
I stood there, looking at them, imagining how they’d look on my feet as I walked down the main street, turning heads…
Just then, someone nudged me gently.
I turned to see a man standing there, smiling.
“Nice, aren’t they?” he nodded towards the sandals.
“Yes…” I mumbled, still gazing into the window.
“Let’s have some coffee. If I buy you these sandals, would you join me on a date?”
I knew I seemed naïve and silly to him, but I didn’t care at the time.
“I will,” I replied.
I wanted a gift. I wanted to feel special, if only for one evening.
We sat in a café, he ordered me cake, and I shared my story with him.
I told him my parents had died.
It was true.
I really had buried my father, and as for my mother…
I had “buried” her in my mind as a child because she left me as a baby.
I said it in a way to evoke sympathy.
And it worked.
That’s how it all began.
I visited the city more often, and we continued to see each other.
James—that was his name—took me under his wing, showering me with attention.
First, it was the sandals, then dresses, jewelry, and lovely perfume.
But it wasn’t for the gifts that I became his lover.
I loved him.
I thought he loved me too.
But I was foolish.
I made a mistake and became pregnant.
I was ready to hear anything:
— We need to part ways.
— Deal with it yourself.
— Get rid of it.
But he said something else:
— You’re moving in with me. We’ll raise the child together.
I couldn’t believe my luck.
My mother ruined my life.
We got married.
I was sure fate had finally given me a chance.
Then one day there was a knock at the door.
I opened it and nearly fainted.
There stood my mother, holding a bag of sauerkraut like we’d seen each other just yesterday.
It turned out someone in the neighborhood let slip where I now lived.
She came to reconcile.
And James learned the truth.
He realized I had lied.
And in that instant, his love vanished.
He screamed, called me a country scammer, and asked if my father would rise from his grave since I so easily “removed” people from my life.
He threw us out.
Me, my mother, and her sauerkraut.
I trusted him again—and was wrong again.
I returned to my grandparents’ house.
I sent my mother away.
And I was alone with my child.
Yet James came back.
— Let’s come back together, he said. — We have a son.
And I believed him.
Naive, I thought love could conquer all.
But he never took me back to his place.
We moved into his parents’ old house, who needed care.
I agreed.
I did everything for him, his parents, and our son.
Then I got pregnant again.
Once, we argued, and in a fit of anger, he reminded me:
— Don’t forget you’re just a guest here!
These words cut deeply, like a knife.
Yet still, I stayed.
I believed love could withstand hardships.
When the second child was born, he said money was tight, that his business had failed.
We were equals now: I had nothing, and neither did he.
Then a third child arrived.
I thought nothing would change, that we would be together no matter what.
He worked more and more, leaving early and returning late.
I assumed he was working hard for the family.
I didn’t see everything falling apart.
Spain—a ticket to a new life… but not for me.
One day, he said:
— I can’t live like this anymore. There’s no future here. I’m moving abroad.
I believed him.
He was worn out, defeated, exhausted.
I even agreed—let him go, let him try to earn a living.
But then I stumbled upon the truth.
At the airport for a flight to Spain, there were two tickets.
One with his name.
And the other—a woman he’d been involved with for many years.
I understood everything.
But I couldn’t stop him.
He left.
And I stayed.
With three children.
With his parents, who were no longer strangers to me.
In an empty house, my heart full of pain.
I don’t know how to move forward.
I just hope someday it will hurt less.
