I finally realized my mistakes and wanted to return to my exwife after three decades, but it was already too late.
My name is Miguel Carvalho, I live in Almeirim, where the grey Ribatejo days stretch endlessly over the fields. Im 52, and I have nothingno wife, no family, no children, no jobjust an emptiness that feels like cold wind blowing through an abandoned house. I destroyed everything I owned, and now I stand amid the rubble of my life, staring into the abyss I dug with my own hands.
### Family life
For 30 years I shared my life with Helena. I was the breadwinner, working to support the family while she kept the home. I liked having her at home, not having to share her with the outside world. Over time, however, I grew irritated by her habits, her care, her voice. The love between us faded, drowned by routine. I convinced myself that this was normal, that this was how things should be. I was comfortable in that dull stabilityuntil fate presented a challenge I could not meet.
One night, at a café, I met Júlia. She was 32, twenty years younger than me, beautiful and lively, with a sparkle in her eyes. She seemed like the fulfillment of a dream, a breath of fresh air in my stagnant existence. We began seeing each other, and within weeks she became my lover. For two months I led a double life, until I realized I no longer wanted to return home to Helena. I had fallen for Júliaor at least it felt that way. I wanted her to become my wife, my new destiny.
Summoning courage, I told Helena the truth. She didnt scream, didnt smash dishesshe simply looked at me with empty eyes and nodded. I assumed she didnt care either, that her feelings had long since died. Now I see how deeply I hurt her. We divorced. We sold the apartment where our children had grown up, a place filled with memories. Júlia insisted I leave nothing for Helena. I obeyedtook my share and bought a spacious twobedroom flat for her. Helena was left with a tiny onebedroom unit, and I gave her no financial help. I knew she had no job and no means to live, but I didnt care. Our sons, Rui and Daniel, cut me off, calling me a traitor and breaking all ties. At that moment I was indifferent: I had Júlia, a fresh start, and I thought that was enough.
Júlia became pregnant, and I awaited our child with anticipation. When the baby was born, I noticed he resembled neither me nor her. Friends whispered, my brother warned me, but I pushed those thoughts aside. Life with Júlia turned into a nightmare. I worked to the point of exhaustion, supporting the household and the child, while she constantly demanded money, disappeared at night, returned drunk, smelling of alcohol. The house was a mess, food was scarce, arguments erupted over trivial matters. I lost my jobfatigue and anger took their toll. I lived in that torment for three years until my brother convinced me to take a DNA test. The result hit me like a hammer: the child was not mine.
I divorced Júlia the same day I learned the truth. She vanished, taking whatever she could carry. I was left aloneno wife, no children, no strength. I decided then to go back to Helena. I bought flowers, wine, a cake, and approached her like a repentant dog. But in her modest home another man already lived therethe new owner gave me Helenas new address. I went, trembling with hope. A man opened the door. Helena had found a job, married a colleague, seemed happyalive, radiant, like I had never seen her before. She had rebuilt her life without me.
Later I saw her in a café. I fell to my knees, begging her to return. She looked at me as if I were a pathetic fool and walked away without a word. Now I realize how foolish I was. Why did I abandon the woman I spent thirty years with? Why did I trade my family for a young woman who drained and abandoned me? For an illusion, for a blind belief in love? I am 52, an empty shell. My sons dont answer my calls, my job has slipped away like sand through my fingers. I have lost everything that mattered, and I am solely to blame.
Every night I dream of Helenaher calm eyes, her voice, her warmth. I awaken to the coldness of solitude and understand: I am the one who pushed her out of my life. She doesnt wait for me, wont forgive me, and I am unworthy of forgiveness. My mistake burns like a brand on my soul. I would like to turn back time, but its too late. Too late. Now I wander the streets of Almeirim like a ghost searching for what I destroyed. I have nothingonly regret, which will accompany me until my last days. I have shattered my family, my life, and I bear that weight alone, knowing there is nothing left to fix.
