There is no place for her in my life, and there never will be! Today, I’ve decided to speak my mind. I seek neither sympathy nor advice – I just need to shed this weight from my soul. I know what I’ve been through, and despite the pain and betrayal, I will continue to live with my head held high. Because I loved her truly.
I met Lucy four years ago at a fair in Manchester. She was only visiting for a couple of days, but that was enough for a spark to ignite between us. It was like a scene from a film – long conversations, laughter, tender glances. Two months later, she made the decision to move in with me, leaving her life in London behind.
We were both divorced and had suffered betrayal. I hadn’t been in touch with my ex-wife, and she had severed ties with her ex-husband. Lucy shared how he had ruined her life, how he manipulated their daughter against her. We both carried our own dramas, and it seemed that we had finally discovered a peaceful and mature love.
I was happy. She, however, was not. I loved her deeply. No one had ever cared for me the way she did. We began living together, planning our future. Love in later life is something special. You know what you want, cherish the moments, and live consciously.
But life had another blow in store for me, one I could never have anticipated.
Betrayal. In early July, we took our first holiday together – to the south, to Brighton. The sea, the sun, long strolls along the promenade… I was convinced everything was wonderful between us.
But then, it turned out that her ex-husband and daughter, along with their two-year-old granddaughter, were also vacationing nearby – in Eastbourne.
I remember her telling me that they weren’t in contact, that her daughter wanted nothing to do with her, that she had cut ties with the past. Yet one day, her phone rang. Lucy glanced at the screen and suddenly beamed with joy.
“Of course, come over! We’re here at the hotel…” I heard her voice.
I was bewildered. How could they have found each other?
A few hours later, they arrived. Her daughter didn’t even glance my way – all her focus was on her mother. And Lucy… she was practically glowing. She had never met her granddaughter before, and now – it was happening.
Tears of joy streamed down her face as she held the little one, kissing and hugging her. I felt like an intruder.
“I’ll take a walk,” I said, giving them some time alone.
When I returned, I saw her ex-husband looking at her… with tenderness, with a kind of quiet longing.
A sense of unease crept into my heart.
An Invisible Crack. After they left, we returned to our room. Lucy immediately lay down to sleep without even wishing me goodnight. This had never happened before.
The next morning, she looked different – anxious, lost in thought.
“I’ve just got a headache,” she said.
But something had shifted.
A few days later, she announced that we needed to return home early. She hurriedly packed her things and barely spoke during the journey.
And then… she vanished.
Disappearance. The day after we got back, she left “on business” for London. She never returned.
I tried calling her, but she constantly made excuses – “I’m on the tube,” “I’m in a meeting,” “I’ll call you later.” But she never did.
I found myself unable to dial her number again. I just couldn’t.
For a week, I reached for my phone, only to throw it onto the bed, knowing that hearing another lie would be unbearable.
I understood everything without her needing to say a word.
A Closed Door. A couple of weeks later, she called. Her voice was soft, almost remorseful.
“I made a mistake. I thought… I got lost… I’m sorry.”
She said something else, but I stopped listening.
“It’s too late, Lucy.”
And I hung up.
I don’t expect her new-old partner to change. Perhaps in a year, two, or three, she’ll call me again.
But that no longer matters.
There is no place for her in my life anymore.
