He left me with three children and elderly parents – ran off to Cornwall with his mistress
I couldn’t hold on to him
It all began on my birthday.
I was living in a village, with not much money to spare, and the urban shop windows were filled with beautiful things – it was overwhelming.
I was particularly smitten with a pair of sandals.
Standing there, I imagined how they would fit on my feet, how I would walk down the high street, and everyone would turn to look at me…
Just then, someone nudged me gently with their elbow.
I turned to see a man smiling at me.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he said, nodding at the sandals.
“Yes…” I mumbled, still gazing at the display.
“Shall we have a cup of tea? If I buy the sandals for you, would you go on a date with me?”
I knew I must have looked silly and naive in his eyes, but I didn’t care then.
“I will,” I responded.
I wanted a gift. I wanted to feel special for at least one evening.
We sat in a café, he ordered me cake, and I told him my story.
I shared that my parents had passed away.
This was true.
I had genuinely buried my father, but as for my mum…
I had “buried” her in my mind during childhood because she left me as a baby.
I shared this to evoke sympathy.
And it worked.
That’s how it all began.
I visited town more often, and we met regularly.
His name was John – he showered me with attention.
Initially, it was the sandals, then dresses, jewellery, lovely perfumes.
But no, I didn’t become his lover just for the gifts.
I loved him.
I believed he loved me too.
But I was naive.
I made a mistake and got pregnant.
I braced myself for any reaction:
— We need to break up.
— You deal with it.
— Have 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 that destiny had finally given me a chance.
Then one day, there was a knock on the door.
I opened it – and nearly fainted.
Standing there was my mum.
Holding a bag of pickled onions, as if we’d met just the other day.
Apparently, a neighbour had let slip where I was living now.
She had come to reconcile.
And John learned the truth.
He discovered that I had lied.
And in that moment, his love for me vanished.
He yelled, called me a provincial swindler, and asked if my father would rise from the grave since I so easily removed people from my life.
He kicked us out.
Me, my mother, and her onions.
I trusted him again – and was wrong once more
I returned to my grandparents’ cottage.
I sent my mum away.
And stayed alone with my child.
But John came back.
— Let’s get back together, – he said. – We have a son, after all.
And I believed him.
Naively, I thought love would conquer all.
But he never took me back to his flat.
We moved into his parents’ old house – the elderly couple needed care.
I agreed.
I did everything for him, his parents, and our son.
Then I got pregnant again.
Once, during an argument, he furiously reminded me:
— Don’t forget, you’re just a guest here!
Those words cut like a knife.
Yet I stayed.
Believed that love could endure the trials.
When our second child was born, he said money was tight because his business had failed.
Now we were equals: I had nothing, and neither did he.
Then our third arrived.
I thought by then nothing would change, that we’d remain together no matter what.
He worked more and more. Left early, came back late.
I believed he was doing it for the family.
I didn’t see it all falling apart.
Cornwall – 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 believed him.
He was exhausted, despondent, worn out.
I even agreed – let him go, let him try to earn.
But later I stumbled upon the truth.
At the airport, there were two tickets for his flight to Cornwall.
One in his name.
And the other in a woman’s name, someone he’d been involved with for years.
I understood everything.
But I couldn’t stop him.
He left.
And I stayed behind.
With three children.
With his parents, who were no longer strangers to me.
In an empty house, with a heart full of pain.
I don’t know how to carry on.
I just hope that one day this pain will cease to be so intense.
