I see now what I did. I wanted to return to my ex-wife, with whom I had spent thirty years, but it was already too late…
I am fifty-two now. And I have nothing. No wife, no family, no children, no jobnothing at all.
My name is Edward. For three decades, I lived with my wife. I had always worked to provide for our family, while she kept the home. I never wanted her to work. I was content knowing she stayed at home. But as time passed, she began to wear on my nerves.
We lived together, respecting one another, but the love had faded. I thought it natural. It suited me. Then, everything changed. One evening, in a pub, I met Eleanor. She was twenty years my junior. Beautiful, kind, and full of laughterlike a dream come true.
We began seeing each other, and soon enough, she became my mistress. After two months, I no longer wished to lie to my wife. I no longer wanted to return home after work. I realised I loved Eleanor and wanted her as my wife.
Days later, I told my wife the truth. She made no scene. She remained calm. I thought she no longer loved me either, and that was why she took it so well. Only now do I understand how deeply I wounded Margaret.
We divorced. We sold the flat where we had spent so many years together. Eleanor insisted I not leave it to my ex-wifeso I didnt. Margaret bought a small bedsit. With my savings, I purchased a modest house for Eleanor.
I offered Margaret no help, not a single penny. I knew she had little money and wouldnt find work easily. But at the time, I didnt care. Our sons refused to speak to me. They knew I had betrayed their mother and would not forgive me.
Back then, it didnt trouble me. Eleanor was with child, and we eagerly awaited its arrival. Soon, a son was born. But the boy resembled neither me nor Eleanor. My friends doubted he was mine. I refused to listen.
Life with Eleanor grew bitter. I worked tirelessly, tended the house, and cared for the child. Eleanor only ever asked for money and was always out somewhere. The home was in disarray, meals never made. She returned at three or four in the morning, reeking of drink, picking fights over nothing.
In time, I lost my job. Worn down and bitter, my work suffered. Three years passed like this. Then my brother, who had never liked Eleanor and suspected the child wasnt mine, pressed me to take a paternity test. It proved the boy was not my son.
We divorced the moment the truth came out. By then, I had lost all contact with both my wife and my sons. After parting with Eleanor, I resolved to return to Margaret. I bought flowers, wine, a cake, and went to her old home. She no longer lived there. The new owner gave me her address.
I went to her. A man answered. It turned out Margaret had found good work and married a colleague. She was happy, content.
Some time later, I saw her in a café. I asked her to come back to me. She looked at me as if I were a fool and left. Now I understand the mistake I made. What did I want? What had I gained? Why had I left my wife for a younger woman?
I am fifty-two now. And I have nothing. No wife, no job, and even my sons refuse to speak to me. Ive lost everything that ever truly mattered. And it is entirely my fault. A mistake I can never undo.
