“Yesterday they came to me again, the pair of them: my mum and mother-in-law,”—their pleas are tearing my heart in two.
In a quiet market town near Salisbury, where ancient oak trees whisper tales of family drama, my life has become an unbearable tug-of-war. My name’s Abigail, and two years ago, I learned the truth that shattered my world. Now I’m stuck at a crossroads, torn between the sting of betrayal and the relentless pressure from my family, begging me to keep the marriage intact.
**Love That Never Was**
When I married Simon at 25, he seemed solid—older, confident, with a steady gaze and promises of a bright future. I truly believed our love was forever. We dreamed of kids, a home, all the usual things. But life had other plans. For fifteen years, I lived in a bubble, completely blind to the fact my husband was slipping away. Then, two years ago, the truth hit me like a ton of bricks: Simon had another woman. Not just a fling—a full-blown double life I knew nothing about.
I found out by chance, thanks to a friend who spotted them cozying up in a café. At first, I refused to believe it, but suddenly it all made sense: the late nights, the work excuses, the way his eyes never quite met mine anymore. He wasn’t just cheating—he was living a whole other life while I raised our two kids, Emily and Oliver, waiting faithfully at home. The realisation crushed me. I filed for divorce—I couldn’t stand the humiliation. But that’s when the real nightmare began.
**The Relentless Begging**
My mum, Margaret, and my mother-in-law, Doris, formed an unlikely alliance: their mission? To make me withdraw the divorce papers. They turned up together, again and again, armed with pleas and guilt trips. “Take it back, Abby! Don’t throw away your marriage at 42! Think of the children! Simon made a mistake, but he won’t leave her. He’ll mope about, then come crawling back. Pull yourself together!”—their words stung like a slap.
They insisted I forgive him—for the kids, for “stability.” Doris even had the nerve to blame me: “You didn’t keep him happy enough, so he strayed.” Mum chimed in, saying starting over at my age was madness. “Who’d take on a woman with two kids?”—her words cut deep. I cried myself to sleep, feeling trapped. But how do you forgive someone who threw away everything you believed in?
**The Betrayal That Won’t Fade**
Simon never denied what he’d done, but he didn’t exactly beg for forgiveness either. He just shrugged. “It happened, Abby. I never meant to hurt you.” His indifference was worse than the affair. He stayed with her, while I was left with the kids, the bills, and a heart in pieces. Mum and Doris swore he’d come back, called it a “midlife blip.” But I saw it in his eyes—he wasn’t coming back. He’d already chosen his new life.
I tried explaining that I couldn’t stay with a man who didn’t respect me. They wouldn’t listen. Doris wept, reminiscing about what a dutiful son Simon had been. Mum clutched her pearls, hissing that divorce would humiliate us in front of the neighbours. The pressure was suffocating, but I refused to cave. I wanted my dignity back.
**The Kids—My Heartbreak and My Strength**
Emily and Oliver became my anchors. They’re young, but they know something’s wrong. Emily once asked, “Mum, why doesn’t Daddy love us anymore?” I had no answer—just held her tight, hiding my tears. For them, I have to stay strong. But how do you explain to children that their father chose someone else? How do you teach them to trust when your own world’s been upended?
Mum and Doris use the kids as ammunition. “Don’t rob them of their father! A family should stick together!” But what kind of family is it without love or respect? I won’t let them grow up thinking a woman should endure humiliation for the sake of appearances. I want them to see their mother stand tall, even when the odds are stacked against her.
**The Moment of Truth**
Yesterday, Mum and Doris showed up again. They stood on my doorstep like guardians of a lost cause, pleading, “Abby, take back the papers! Don’t wreck the family! Simon will change, you know he won’t abandon you!” I looked at them, torn between anger and pity. These women, inBut as the door closed behind them, I finally exhaled—knowing that sometimes, walking away is the bravest thing you can do.
