It must have been nearly a decade since my divorce, yet the memory still lingers, softened only with the passage of time. I was thirty-seven then, living comfortably, my salary more than sufficient. My ex-husband had betrayed me, leaving me for another woman. I couldnt forgive him, and he moved in with her soon after. She fell pregnant, had his child, and they married. After that, I decided it best to cut all ties; I hardly knew what became of them.
Recently, Id come into a handsome sum the result of selling the house I inherited from my grandmother. Truth be told, I hadnt yet decided what to do with the money. The idea of buying a proper motor car crossed my mind, but first Id need to learn to drive, and time never seemed on my side. Still, the amount was quite respectable, and I wasnt keen on parting with it in haste.
One afternoon, after years of silence between us, my ex-husband showed up at my door. The shock of seeing him again, after so many years, was genuine; words stuck in my throat. But before I could gather my thoughts, he began: his son from his second marriage had been stricken with cancer. The treatment would be dear, far beyond their means, so hed come to me for help.
Of course, he knew about my recent windfall. How fortunate for him that the timing suited. He pleaded for financial assistance, stressing their desperation, though hed never spared much thought for my feelings in the past nor had his wife, frankly. Hed cast me aside for her without hesitation, and during our divorce, everything was split straight down the middle. He even tried to claim my flat, but Id bought it before wed married, and that saved me in the end. Oh, how hed moaned about his woes then!
And yet, here he was, asking for my help now, speaking of his own suffering. He offered to show me paperwork, proof of his sons illness, promises that they would repay me, even though the treatment and rehabilitation would cost a small fortune. Somehow, I doubted I would ever see the money again.
I asked him, Why dont you try the bank for a loan? I gave him my answer clear and firm, face-to-face. He grew agitated, suggested hed go so far as to beg on his knees. But I wasnt interested in humiliating him I simply didnt want to offer help. Hed tossed me aside once, betrayed me, so he could deal with the outcome himself.
He said hed return after Id had time to think, but there was nothing left to consider.
Some might say I lack compassion that I ought to have helped regardless of history. But I believe in managing my own money and keeping it my own. I wont share it with anyone else; not after all that passed. Though I felt uneasy after our conversation, I resolved not to help him. Let this be a lesson learned and a fitting consequence for past misdeeds.
