I spent over fifteen years with my husband, kicking off lifes adventure hand in hand. Freshly married, we moved in with my mother-in-lawa woman whose tea was as strong as her opinions. We both worked at the local factory, and before long, we were allocated a modest room in the workers housing. Armed with our own kettle and a bit of elbow room, we finally escaped my mother-in-laws fortress.
Things hummed along nicely. But it dawned on me: my husband could do with a degree if he ever wanted to climb the corporate ladder. So, I coaxed him into university, then did the actual hard graft myselfwriting his essays and reports as if I were ghostwriting the next Great British Novel. He received his diploma, flashed it at work, andta-dah!he was promoted. I was genuinely chuffed for him, even though my own career was in shambles. Despite a university degree, I seemed destined for perma-maternity leave. Just as our son started toddling around, I found myself expecting a daughter. Back at work, my only achievements were endless sick notes since the kids caught every sniffle imaginable.
Despite my career hiccups, I didnt despair. I had won the family lottery. My husband burned the midnight oil and soon enough, we upgraded to a spacious flat. The kids were over the moon with their own rooms; their sibling squabbles suddenly had doors to slam. I started seeing less and less of my hardworking other half. Then, one day, fate threw me a curveballa run-in with an old colleague. She confided that her husband was carrying on with his junior. The pair are absolutely shameless, she whispered, sometimes they dont even close the blindsshe gets presents right under everyones noses. One day he even gave her a hug! You should leave him. You deserve better!
That hit home, so I marched to my husbands office, determined to confront his sweetheart and ask her to leave my family alone. She humiliated me in front of everyone, laughing as though shed won first prize at the village fete. Her husbands off with a real stunner and shes in floods of tears, she sneered. Why not get in shape, love?
Just then, my husband swept out of his office, spotted me and looked infuriated. What are you doing here? So youve found out, have you? Good. Im tired of pretending. Im filing for divorce tomorrow. And that was thathe brought in the top solicitors, stripped me of everything, and turfed me and the kids onto the street. He didnt care where we ended up, or how wed survive. His love affair was off like a rocket. Thankfully, my parents stepped in and helped me buy a petite flat. I secured a job and slowly, life started to look up.
A year later, my ex rang, bursting with entitlement. He wanted helpnot an apology, mind youbut help. The very picture of arrogance, hed lost his job, been dumped by his new wife, and then managed to wind up in hospital. I politely told him to jog on. After all, hed taken everything from me and the kids, never so much as checked in on us. Now, for once, the boot was on the other foot.
