He left me with three children 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, barely scraping by, and the shop windows in the city were filled with beautiful things I could only dream of owning. My eyes lingered on a pair of sandalselegant, delicate. I imagined wearing them, strolling down the high street, turning heads.
Then, a gentle nudge against my elbow.
I turned to see a man smiling at me.
“Lovely, arent they?” He nodded toward the sandals.
“Yes,” I murmured, still staring.
“Lets get coffee. If I buy them for you, will you go out with me?”
I knew I must have seemed desperate, but in that moment, I didnt care.
“Alright,” I said.
I wanted that gift. I wanted to feel special, even for just one evening.
We sat in a café. He ordered me cake, and I told him my storyhow my parents were gone. A half-truth. My father was truly dead, but my mother? Id buried her in my mind long ago. She left me as a baby. I twisted the tale to earn his pity.
It worked.
Thats how it began. I visited the city more often, and we met again. His name was Edward. He took me in, spoiled mefirst the sandals, then dresses, jewellery, expensive perfumes. But it wasnt just gifts. I loved him. I thought he loved me too.
I was naïve.
I made a mistake. I got pregnant.
I expected the worst”Were done. Sort it out. Get rid of it.”
Instead, he said, “Move in with me. Well raise this child together.”
I couldnt believe my luck.
We married. I thought fate had finally smiled on me.
Then, one day, a knock at the door.
I opened itand nearly collapsed.
There stood my mother, clutching a bag of pickled onions like no time had passed. A neighbour had told her where I lived. She wanted to make amends.
Edward learned the truththat Id lied.
His love vanished in an instant.
He shouted, called me a fraud, asked if my father would crawl out of his grave next, since I erased people so easily from my life. Then he threw us outme, my mother, and her stupid onions.
I still believed in him. Another mistake.
I went back to my grandparents. Sent my mother away. Raised my son alone.
But Edward came back.
“Lets try again,” he said. “We have a child.”
I trusted him.
Foolishly, I thought love could conquer anything.
He didnt take me back to his flat. We moved into his parents old houseelderly, in need of care. I accepted. I did everything for him, for them, for our boy.
Then I fell pregnant again.
One argument, he snapped: “Dont forgetyoure just a guest here!”
The words cut deep.
Still, I stayed.
I believed love would endure.
When the second child came, he claimed money was tight, his business had failed. We were equals nowboth had nothing. Then the third arrived.
I thought nothing could break us.
He worked longer hours, left early, came home late. I assumed he was fighting for us.
I didnt see the collapse coming.
Italya ticket to a new life. But not mine.
One day, he announced: “I cant do this anymore. Theres no future here. Im leaving the country.”
I believed him. He looked exhausted, broken. I even agreedlet him go, let him try.
Then I found the tickets.
Two of them.
One in his name.
The othera woman hed been seeing for years.
I understood.
But I couldnt stop him.
He left.
And I stayed.
With three children.
With his parents, whod become family.
In an empty house and a heart full of pain.
I dont know how to go on.
I just hope one day it hurts less.
