I was stood by the window, clutching my glass of whisky with such force my knuckles had turned white. The old clock on the wall ticked ominously, drawing out each second as if time itself was conspiring against me.
It was late. Far too late.
Then I saw the headlights.
A black Jaguar pulled up outside our flat. My breath caught in my chest. The driver was a mantall, confident, a stranger to me.
Then the passenger door opened.
And out stepped my wife.
My stomach twisted painfully inside me. She smileda genuine, warm smile I hadnt seen from her for ages. She leaned towards the driver, said something, and he laughed. He actually laughed.
After a moment, she closed the door and headed for the entrance, as the car pulled away.
I felt blood boiling in my veins.
How long had this been happening? How many nights had I gone to bed peacefully, while she came home dropping out of someone elses car?
The flat door opened and in she walked, utterly unconcerned, tossing her handbag onto the table.
Who was he? My voice was low, threatening.
She stopped short and stared at me, taken aback. What?
The man in the car. Who was he?
She let out an exasperated sigh. For heavens sake, Michael, that was Charlottes husband, he just gave me a lift home. Whats wrong with you?
But I wasnt listening anymore.
I couldnt hear anything through the roar of rage in my head, through thoughts that poisoned my mind.
Then I raised my hand.
The crack of my palm meeting her cheek split the silence of the room.
She stumbled back, clutching her face. A thin line of blood appeared at the corner of her nose.
The heaviness of what Id done pressed on us both.
Her eyes widened, and for the first time since Id known her, I saw itfear.
My heart clenched.
Id crossed a line.
A line past which there would be no return.
She didnt shout. She didnt cry. She didnt say a word. She simply picked her coat off the chair and walked out.
The next morning, I received the divorce papers.
I lost everythingincluding my son.
Ive put up with your jealousy for years, she said during our last conversation, her voice icy and hollow. But Ill never tolerate violence.
I begged her to forgive me. Swore it was a mistake. Assured her it would never happen again.
But it no longer mattered.
Then the final blow cameat the hearing, she told the court I was aggressive towards our son as well.
A lie.
A filthy, treacherous lie. Id never so much as raised my voice to him, let alone laid a hand on him in anger.
But who would believe me? A man whod hit his wife?
The judge didnt even hesitate.
She was granted full custody.
Me? Just a few hours a week. One visit, in a supervised setting.
Not at home. No bedtime stories. No mornings making him breakfast.
For six months, I lived only for those precious hours.
Those moments when he would run to me, laughing, flinging his arms round my neck to tell me his stories.
And every time, Id have to let him go. Id watch him walk away, while I was left standing alone.
Until one day, when he said something that changed everything.
The truth my little five-year-old son revealed
He was growing up, starting to notice things. To ask questions.
One afternoon, as he was quietly playing with his toy cars, he spoke up in the most innocent voice:
Dad, last night Mum wasnt home. A lady came to stay with me.
I froze.
A lady? What lady? I asked, trying to sound calm.
I dont know. She always comes when Mum goes out in the evening.
My heart skipped.
And where does Mum go?
He shrugged. She doesnt tell me.
My hands shook.
I started digging around. I had to know the truth.
And when I found out, my vision darkened.
Shed hired a nanny.
While I counted down the seconds to every moment with my son, she was leaving him with a stranger.
I grabbed my phone and rang her.
Why is a stranger looking after our child when Im right here? I demanded.
Her voice was cool, disinterested. Because its easier.
Easier?! My jaw clenched. Im his father! If youre going out in the evening, he should be with me!
She sighed. Michael, Im not going to drive him round to yours every time I go out. This isnt about you.
I squeezed the phone so hard I thought it might crack.
What could I do? Take her back to court? Fight for custody? And if I lost again?
One moment of weakness.
One single mistake.
And Id lost it all.
But my son?
I wont lose him.
I will fight.
Because he is all I have left.
