He left me with three children and elderly parents – took off to Spain with his lover.
I couldn’t hold him back
It all started on my birthday.
At the time, I was living in a village, with hardly any money, while city shops were filled with beautiful things – it was overwhelming.
I was particularly smitten by a pair of sandals.
I stood there, imagining how they’d look on my feet as I walked down the main street, turning heads as I passed…
Then someone nudged me gently with their elbow.
I turned and saw a man standing there, smiling.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he nodded toward the sandals.
“Yes…” I mumbled, still gazing at the display.
“Let’s have a coffee. If I buy you those sandals, would you go on a date with me?”
I knew I must have looked silly and naive in his eyes, but back then, I didn’t care.
“I would,” I replied.
I wanted a gift. I wanted to feel special, even just for one evening.
We sat in a café, he ordered me a cake, and I shared my story.
I told him my parents had died.
That was true.
I had truly buried my father, but my mother…
I had “buried” my mother in my mind since childhood because she left me as a baby.
I shared this with him in a way to evoke sympathy.
And it worked.
That’s how it all began.
I started visiting the city more often, and we’d meet.
His name was James – he took me to his place, showered me with attention.
First, it was the sandals, then dresses, jewelry, lovely perfumes.
But no, I didn’t become his lover for gifts.
I loved him.
I thought he loved me too.
But I was a fool.
I made a mistake and got pregnant.
And I was prepared to hear anything:
— We need to break up.
— Deal with it yourself.
— Get an abortion.
But he said something entirely different:
— You’ll move 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 that fate had finally given me a chance.
And then one day, there was a knock on the door.
I opened it and nearly fainted.
There stood my mother.
Holding a bag of pickled onions, as if we’d seen each other just yesterday.
Turns out someone in the neighborhood let slip where I was living now.
She came to make amends.
And James found out the truth.
Found out that I had lied.
And in that moment, his love for me disappeared.
He yelled, called me a small-town swindler, and asked if my father wouldn’t rise from the grave since I could so easily “remove” people from my life.
And threw me out.
Me, my mother, and her onions.
I believed him again – and was wrong again
I moved back into my grandparents’ house.
Sent my mother away.
And was left alone with a child.
But James came back.
— Let’s get back together, – he said. – We have a son.
And I believed him.
Naively, I thought love would conquer all.
But he didn’t take me to his apartment again.
We moved into his parents’ old house – elderly folks who needed care.
I agreed.
I did everything for him, for his parents, for our son.
Then, I got pregnant again.
During an argument, he reminded me harshly:
— Don’t forget, you’re just a guest here!
Those words cut through me like a knife.
Yet I stayed.
I believed our love could endure the trials.
When the second child was born, he said money had become an issue, that his business had failed.
Now we were equal: I had nothing, and neither did he.
Then the third was born.
I thought nothing would change now, that we’d be together no matter what.
He worked more and more, leaving early, coming back late.
I thought he was doing it for our family.
I didn’t see it all 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 leaving the country.
I trusted him.
He seemed exhausted, defeated, worn out.
I even agreed – let him go, let him try to earn something.
But then I accidentally discovered the truth.
At the airport, there were two tickets to Spain.
One in his name.
The other in the name of the woman he’d been seeing for years.
I understood everything.
But couldn’t stop him.
He left.
And I stayed.
With three kids.
With his parents, who felt like family by now.
In an empty house, with a soul full of pain.
I don’t know how to carry on.
I just hope that one day, it will hurt less.
