A week before the eighth of March, I barely managed to leave the courtroom. Tears were blurring my vision. One thought kept echoing through my mind: You are no longer husband and wife.
I still recall how I rushed from the court that day, my heart in pieces. The sorrow stung so sharplywhy had he done this to me? What had I done to deserve such punishment?
I married when I was only eighteen. It was a whirlwind romance, full of sleepless nights and a sense that I was floating, weightless, swept up in the joy of love. For five wonderful years, I felt adored. I did everything I could to please him: breakfast in bed at dawn, meals made just the way he liked them, and a home kept spotless and warm.
But his parents never really approved of me. They always said I wasnt good enough for their son, insisting they could find him a finer wife. Their words drew a wedge between us; I noticed how he started changing towards me, becoming more distant and ever critical.
Our son was five at the time. At first, my husband doted on him, showering him with affection and treats. Yet, over time, he grew noticeably cold. I think my in-laws told him our boy wasnt really his, though the child was the very image of his father. Gradually, my husband spent more and more time with his parents, to the point he nearly lived with them. When he did come home, he was irritable and quick to anger. Still, I did my best to keep myself together and hold our home together.
I remember the day his temper flared so fiercely that he struck me. It felt unreal that this could happen, and still, I clung to hope that things would eventually mend. But before long, he told me it was overhe was leaving. He abandoned both me and our little boy. I pleaded with him, begged him not to throw away our family, but he wouldnt listen.
Even after our divorce, I loved him. I couldnt imagine life without him. He paid only the barest maintenance for our son, demanding receipts for every shilling I spent, even for a simple loaf of bread. I had to appeal to him for every pound, but he had no wish to provide more for his own child.
He rarely visited our boy, and when he did, it was only for a day or two. Our son could sense he was unwelcome and preferred not to go with him. My ex-husband accused me of poisoning our child against him, though all I could do was mourn the end of our family. Since he left, I cried every day. The heartbreak chipped away at meI’d grown thin and fallen into a deep melancholy. Sometimes, Id raise my voice at my son, knowing full well it wasnt fair.
How does one go on living when your heart feels cleaved in two? Day after day, I found myself looking at my ex-husbands pages online, following the traces of his new life. Thats how I bitterly learned he intended to marry someone else.
Now I understand why he doesnt come round often, and why our son has no desire to see him. My mind knows its over and nothing can mend it, but my heart is slow to follow. I often wonderhow am I meant to cope with this pain?
