I am now 52 and I own nothingno wife, no family, no kids, no job absolutely nothing.
My name is Pedro. My wife María and I were married for thirty years. I was always the breadwinner while María took care of the home. I never wanted her to work; I liked having her at home. Over time, however, she began to irritate me.
We lived together respectfully, but the love faded. I thought that was normal and accepted it. Then everything changed. One night, in a bar, I met Elena. She was twenty years younger, beautiful, kind and funnya dream come true.
We started seeing each other, and soon she became my lover. After two months I realized I no longer wanted to keep deceiving María. I didnt want to go back home after work. I understood I loved Elena and wanted her to become my wife.
A few days later I told María the truth. She didnt make a scene; she stayed calm. I assumed she didnt love me anymore, which is why she accepted it so serenely. Now I see how deeply I hurt her.
We divorced. We sold the apartment where we had spent many years together. Elena insisted that I not leave the flat for my exwife, and thats what I did. María bought a tiny studio. Using my savings, I bought a tworoom apartment for Elena.
I gave María no assistance, not even a single cent. I knew she had no money and wouldnt find work right away, but at that moment I didnt care. Our sons, Miguel and Santiago, refused to speak to me. They felt I had betrayed their mother and could not forgive me.
It mattered little to me then. Elena was pregnant, and we anxiously awaited the babys arrival. The child was born, but he resembled neither me nor Elena. My friends doubted he was my son, and I refused to listen.
Life with Elena was hard. I had to work long hours, tend to the house, and look after the child. Elena only asked for money and was constantly out. The home was a mess, there was never a meal prepared. She would return at three or four in the morning smelling of alcohol, causing scenes over anything.
Eventually I lost my job. I was exhausted, angry, and performed poorly. That was my existence for three years. Then my brother, who had never approved of Elena and also doubted the child’s paternity, convinced me to take a DNA test. The result proved the boy was not mine.
We divorced immediately after the truth emerged. By then I had had no contact with María or my children. After the split with Elena, I decided to go back to my first wife. I bought flowers, wine, a cake, and went to see her. It turned out María no longer lived there; the new owner gave me her new address.
I went to that address. A man opened the door. María had found a good job and married a coworker. She was happy and doing well.
Some time later I spotted her in a café. I asked her to return to me. She looked at me as if I were a fool and walked away. Now I understand the mistake I made. What did I want? What did I achieve? Why did I leave my wife and marry a much younger woman?
I am now 52 and have nothing. No wife, no job, not even my children talk to me. I lost everything that mattered most, and it was entirely my fault. Unfortunately, I will never be able to fix this error.
