He left me with three kids and elderly parents—ran off to Australia with his mistress.
I couldn’t hold onto him. Everything began on my birthday.
At the time, I was living in a village and had little money, while the town shop windows displayed so many beautiful things that it was overwhelming.
I particularly fell in love with a pair of sandals.
I stood there, imagining how they would look on my feet, imagining myself walking down the high street and everyone turning to look at me…
Just then, someone gently nudged me with their elbow.
I turned around to see a man smiling in front of me.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he nodded towards the sandals.
“Yes…” I mumbled, still gazing at the display.
“Let’s have a coffee. If I buy you these sandals, will you go on a date with me?”
I knew I appeared naive and ridiculous in his eyes, but at that moment, I didn’t care.
“Alright,” I replied.
I wanted a gift. I wanted to feel special, if only for an evening.
We sat in a café, he ordered me a cake, and I shared my story with him.
I told him my parents had passed away.
It was true.
I had indeed laid my father to rest, but my mother…
I had “buried” my mother in my mind when I was a child because she abandoned me as an infant.
I shared it in a way to evoke sympathy.
And I succeeded.
That’s how it all began.
I visited town more frequently, and we met regularly.
His name was Jack, and he showered me with attention.
It started with the sandals, then dresses, jewelry, and lovely perfumes.
But no, I wasn’t his lover because of the gifts.
I loved him.
I thought he loved me, too.
But I was foolish.
I made a mistake and got pregnant.
I was prepared to hear anything:
— We need to break up.
— Deal with it yourself.
— Get an abortion.
But he said something different:
— You’ll move in with me. We’ll raise the child together.
I couldn’t believe my luck.
My mother ruined my life
We got married.
I was convinced fate finally gave me a chance.
Then one day, there was a knock at the door.
I opened it and almost fainted.
Standing there was my mother.
With a bag of pickled onions, as if we’d seen each other just yesterday.
Apparently, a neighbor had gossiped about where I was living now.
She came to make amends.
And Jack found out the truth.
He discovered that I had lied.
In that instant, his love for me vanished.
He yelled, called me a country con artist, and asked if my father was going to rise from the grave since I so easily “erased” people from my life.
Then he threw us out.
Me, my mother, and her pickles.
I trusted him again—and was wrong again
I went back to my grandparents’ house.
I sent my mother away.
And I was left alone with my child.
But Jack eventually returned.
— Let’s be together again, – he said. – We have a son.
And I believed him.
Naively, I thought love could conquer all.
But he never brought me back to his flat.
We moved into his parents’ old house—they were elderly and needed care.
I agreed.
I did everything for him, his parents, and our son.
Then I got pregnant again.
One day we argued, and with anger, he reminded me:
— Don’t forget, you’re just a guest here!
Those words cut into me like a knife.
Yet I stayed.
I believed love would endure.
When our second child was born, he said money became an issue, that his business failed.
Now we were equal: I had nothing, and neither did he.
Then the third was born.
I thought nothing would change now, that we would stay together no matter what.
He worked more and more. Left early, came home late.
I believed he was trying for the family.
I didn’t see everything falling apart.
Australia—a ticket to a new life… but not for me
One day he said:
— I can’t live like this anymore. There’s no future here. I’m moving abroad.
I trusted him.
He was exhausted, worn out, and tired.
I even agreed—let him go, let him try to earn a living.
But then I accidentally learned the truth.
At the airport, there were two tickets to Australia.
One in his name.
And the other bearing the name of the woman he’d been seeing for years.
I understood it all.
But I couldn’t stop him.
He left.
And I stayed.
With three children.
With his parents, who had become family.
In an empty house, with a heart full of pain.
I don’t know how to move forward.
I just hope that someday it will stop hurting so much.
