A week before Mothers Day, I stumbled out of the courthouse, nearly blind with tears. One phrase echoed relentlessly in my mind: You are no longer husband and wife. Why had he done this to me? What sins had I committed to deserve such punishment?
I married when I was just eighteen. It was a whirlwind romance; endless sleepless nights, a passionate love that made me feel as if I was floating above the earth, barely alive in the conventional sense. For five glorious years, love flooded my days. I devoted myself to himbringing his breakfast in bed every morning, cooking only his favourite meals, keeping our home spotless and warm.
Sadly, his parents never accepted me. They made it clear, time and again, that I wasnt good enough for their son and insisted theyd find him a proper wife. It was plain to see how their words bled into his heart. His attitude shiftedhe grew cold, distant, and found fault with almost everything I did.
Our son was five at the time. At first, my husband adored him, spoiling him with gifts and affection. Yet over time, he turned icy; I knew my in-laws were whispering poisonous doubts in his ears, claiming our son wasnt his (even though he was, undeniably, his fathers double). My husband began spending more and more time at his parents place, until he practically lived there. On the rare occasion he came home, he was bitter, quick to shout, and impossible to please. I tried desperately to be the perfect wife and mother, to keep our home intact.
One evening, his anger boiled overto the point he struck me. I was shattered, unable to believe this was my own life. I still clung to hope that things might mend. But soon after, he announced he was done, leaving ushis wife and sonbehind. I begged him to reconsider, pleaded for our family, but hed made up his mind.
My love for him didnt vanish with the divorce. Life felt unimaginable without him. He pays a meagre amount of child support nowjust a few pounds here and thereand demands a receipt for every single penny. Even if I buy a loaf of bread, I have to send him a photo of the receipt. I find myself begging for money, treated as if I owe him an explanation for every expense, no matter how small, for his own child.
My ex-husband hardly ever bothers to see our sonwhen he does, its like a quick, obligatory visit, and the boy comes home withdrawn. He senses the chill between them and wants nothing to do with him. My ex accuses me of turning our son against him, but he couldnt be more wrong. I am lost in grief, unable to accept the end, crying myself hollow day after day. Since the split, Ive shrunk, withered in myself, and slipped into depression. Sometimes I lash out at my boyknowing I shouldnt, but powerless to stop myself.
How do I keep going when my heart is in pieces? Every day, I find myself scrolling through his social media pages, watching his life from afar. Thats how I learned hes getting married againwhich sent my spirits plummeting even lower. Now, I understand why his visits have become so rare, and why our son feels nothing for him. My mind acknowledges its over, yet my heart refuses to accept it. How am I supposed to move forward when all I feel is heartbreak?
