He left me with three kids and elderly parents to run off with his mistress.
I couldnt stop him.
It all started on my birthday.
Back then, I lived in a tiny village, scraping by on pennies, and the shop windows in town were full of lovely thingshonestly, it was like staring at a treasure chest.
I was obsessed with a pair of sandals.
There I stood, daydreaming about wearing them, strolling down the high street, turning heads like some glamorous film star
Then someone nudged me.
I turned and saw a man smiling at me.
Nice, arent they? He nodded at the sandals.
Yes I sighed, still hypnotised by the display.
Fancy a coffee? If I buy you those, will you go out with me?
I probably looked daft, standing there like a lovesick teenager, but at that moment, I didnt care.
Deal, I said.
I wanted those sandals. I wanted to feel special, even if just for one night.
We sat in a café, he ordered me cake, and I spun him my sad little tale.
I told him my parents were dead.
Which was half-true.
My dad really was gone, but my mum?
Well, Id buried her in my mind years agoshed abandoned me as a baby.
I told it just right, all tearful and tragic.
And it worked.
Thats how it started.
I began coming into town more, seeing him.
His name was Lawrence. He treated me like a princesssandals first, then dresses, jewellery, fancy perfumes.
But no, I wasnt some gold-digger.
I loved him.
I thought he loved me too.
But I was naïve.
I slipped up. Got pregnant.
And I expected every reaction except:
Move in with me. Well raise this baby together.
I couldnt believe my luck.
*My mother ruined my life.*
We got married.
Finally, I thought, fate was on my side.
Then one day, there was a knock at the door.
I opened itnearly fainted.
There stood my mother.
With a bag of pickled onions, like wed just popped to the shops yesterday.
A neighbour had told her where I lived now.
She wanted to make amends.
And Lawrence found out the truth.
He realised Id lied.
Just like that, his love vanished.
He shouted, called me a lying country girl, asked if my dad was going to rise from the grave next, since I deleted people so easily.
Then he kicked us out.
Me, my mother, and her bloody pickled onions.
*I still believed in himand again, I was wrong.*
I went back to my grandparents.
Sent my mother packing.
And there I was, alone with my baby.
But Lawrence came back.
Lets try again, he said. Weve got a son.
And I believed him.
Foolishly, I thought love could fix anything.
But he didnt take me back to his flat.
We moved into his parents’ old placehis elderly mum and dad needed looking after.
I agreed.
I did everything for him, his parents, our son.
Then I got pregnant again.
One day, we argued, and he snapped:
Dont forgetyoure just a guest here!
Those words cut deep.
Still, I stayed.
I thought love could weather any storm.
When the second baby arrived, he claimed money was tight, his business had gone under.
Now we were equalboth broke.
Then came the third.
I thought, *This is it. Were in this together, forever.*
He started working longer hoursout early, home late.
I assumed he was grinding for us.
I missed the signs.
*Italya one-way ticket just not for me.*
Then one day, he announced:
I cant do this anymore. Theres no future here. Im moving abroad.
I believed him.
He looked exhausted, defeated.
I even accepted itlet him go, let him try his luck elsewhere.
Then, by accident, I found out the truth.
At the airport, there were two tickets for a flight to Italy.
One in his name.
And anotherfor a woman hed been seeing for years.
I understood then.
But I couldnt stop him.
He left.
And I stayed.
With three kids.
With his parents, who werent just strangers anymore.
In an empty house and a heart full of pain.
I dont know how to carry on.
I just hope, one day, it hurts a little less.
