**Diary Entry 10th May 2024**
I see my mistakes now, and after 30 years, I wanted to go back to my ex-wifebut it was far too late.
My name is Thomas Whitmore, and I live in Whitby, where the grey Yorkshire skies stretch endlessly over the moors. Im 52 years old, and I have nothing. No wife, no family, no jobjust emptiness, like the cold wind whistling through an abandoned house. I destroyed everything I had, and now I stand amidst the ruins of my life, staring into the abyss I dug with my own hands.
For 30 years, I was married to Margaret. I was the providerworking, paying the billswhile she took care of the home. I liked having her there, safe, not shared with the outside world. But over time, I grew irritated by her habits, her voice, the way she fussed over me. Love faded, worn thin by routine. I thought it was normal, just how things were meant to be. I was comfortable in that dull, grey stability. But then life threw me a challenge I couldnt resist.
One evening, at the pub, I met Emily. She was 32twenty years younger than mebeautiful, full of life, with a spark in her eyes. She felt like a dream, a breath of fresh air in my stagnant world. We started seeing each other, and within months, she was my mistress. For two months, I lived a double lifeuntil I realised I didnt want to go home to Margaret anymore. I thought I was in love with Emilyor at least, I convinced myself I was. I wanted her to be my wife, my new beginning.
I gathered my courage and told Margaret the truth. She didnt scream, didnt throw thingsjust looked at me with empty eyes and nodded. I assumed she didnt care, that her feelings had died long ago. Now, I see how deeply I hurt her. We divorced. We sold the house where our children, James and William, had grown up, where every corner held memories. Emily insisted I leave Margaret with nothing. I obeyedtook my share and bought a spacious flat for Emily. Margaret ended up in a tiny studio, and I didnt even help her financially. I knew she had no job, no way to survivebut I didnt care. The boys turned against me, called me a traitor, and cut all ties. Back then, it didnt matterI had Emily, a new life, and I thought that was enough.
Emily got pregnant, and I waited eagerly for our child. But when the boy was born, he looked nothing like meor even her. Friends whispered, my brother warned me, but I ignored it. Life with Emily became hell. I worked myself to exhaustion, paying for everythingwhile she demanded more money, disappeared at night, came home drunk. The flat was a messno food, constant arguments. I lost my jobexhaustion and anger got the better of me. Three years of this nightmare passed before my brother convinced me to get a DNA test. The result hit me like a hammerthe boy wasnt mine.
I divorced Emily the same day. She vanished, taking everything she could carry. I was aloneno wife, no children, no strength left. So I decided to go back to Margaret. I bought flowers, wine, a cakeshowed up at her door like a grovelling dog. But someone else lived in her old flat now. The new owner gave me her address. I went there, trembling with hope. A man answered. Margaret had found a job, remarried a colleagueshe looked happy, alive, glowing in a way Id never seen before. Shed rebuilt her life without me.
Later, I ran into her at a café. I fell to my knees, begged her to come back. She looked at me like I was a pitiful fool and walked away without a word. Now I see what an idiot I was. Why did I leave the woman Id spent 30 years with? Why did I trade my family for a younger woman who drained me and left me broken? For an illusion? For blind faith in love? Im 52, and Im hollow. My sons wont answer my calls, my job slipped through my fingers like sand. I lost everything that ever mattered, and I have no one to blame but myself.
Every night, I dream of Margarether quiet eyes, her voice, her warmth. I wake up in the cold emptiness and realise: Im the one who pushed her away. She wont wait for me, she wont forgive me, and I dont deserve forgiveness. My mistakea brand that burns my soul. I wish I could turn back time, but its too late. Far too late. Now I wander the streets of Whitby like a ghost, searching for what I destroyed myself. I have nothingonly regret, which will follow me until my last day. I ruined my family, my life, and I carry that weight alone, knowing theres no way to fix it.
