“I Just Want to Live for Myself and Get Some Sleep,” My Husband Said as He Left Three months – that’s how long the madness lasted. Three months of sleepless nights, when baby Max screamed so loudly the neighbours banged on the walls. Three months of Marina shuffling around like a zombie, red-eyed and trembling. And Igor prowled the house, moody as a thundercloud. “Can you imagine, I look like a tramp at work!” he snapped one day, glaring at himself in the mirror. “Bags under my eyes down to my knees.” Marina was silent. She fed her son, rocked him to sleep, fed him again. The same cycle, over and over. While Igor, her husband, instead of helping, just kept complaining. “Listen, maybe your mum could come over?” he suggested one evening, stretching after a shower. Fresh and rested. “I was thinking I might go away to a mate’s cottage for a week.” Marina froze, bottle in hand. “I need a break, Marina. Seriously,” Igor started packing his gym bag. “Haven’t slept properly in ages.” As if she did! Her eyes glued shut, but the moment she lay down, Max started crying. For the fourth time that night. “It’s hard for me, too,” Marina whispered. “Yeah, I know it’s tough,” Igor waved her off, stuffing his favourite shirt in the bag. “But my job’s serious, lots of responsibility. Can’t meet clients looking like this.” Suddenly, Marina saw them from outside: her in a grubby dressing gown, wild hair, crying baby in her arms. And him – packing a bag, running away from them. “I want to live for myself and get some sleep,” Igor muttered, not even looking at her. The door slammed. Marina stood in the hallway, son wailing, feeling her world falling apart. A month passed. Then another. Igor rang a couple times – checked in on them. His voice distant, like he was talking to an acquaintance. “I’ll come round at the weekend.” He didn’t. “I’ll definitely be round tomorrow.” He didn’t. Marina rocked her screaming son, changed nappies, mixed bottles. Slept half an hour here and there. “You coping okay?” her friend asked. “Great,” she lied. Why did she lie? She was ashamed. Ashamed her husband left. Ashamed she was alone with a baby. What could be worse? But then the real drama began – at the shops, she bumped into Igor’s colleague. “Where’s your husband?” asked Lena. “At work a lot.” “Typical blokes – as soon as there’s kids, they camp out at work.” Lena leant closer, “Igor’s away a lot lately, right?” “What do you mean?” “Well, he was just up in Manchester for that seminar. Showed us pictures.” Manchester? When?! Marina remembered: last week Igor hadn’t called for three days. Said he was busy. Lied. He was in Manchester. Igor turned up Saturday. With flowers. “Sorry I’ve been busy. Lots going on at work.” “You went to Manchester?” He froze, flowers in hand. “Who told you?” “Doesn’t matter who. Why lie?” “I didn’t lie. Just thought you’d be upset if I went without you.” Without her?! She couldn’t leave the house with a newborn! “Igor, I need help. You get that? I haven’t slept in weeks.” “We’ll hire a nanny.” “With what? You don’t give me any money.” “What? I pay the mortgage and bills.” “What about food? Nappies? Medicine?” Silence. Then: “Maybe you could go back to work? Even part-time? No need to stay at home. We’ll get a nanny.” Home – as if she was relaxing! Marina picked up her son, looked at Igor, and realised: he didn’t love her. Never did. “Get out.” “What?” “Go. And don’t come back until you choose: family or freedom.” Igor grabbed his keys and left. For two days. Then texted: “I’m thinking.” Marina didn’t sleep. She was thinking too. Imagine being alone with your thoughts for the first time in months. Her mum called. “How are you, Marina? Is Igor there?” “He’s away.” Another lie. “Shall I come over? Help out?” “I’ll manage.” Her mum came anyway. “How’s things here?” She looked around. “God, Marina, look at you!” Marina saw herself in the mirror. Not great. “And Igor?” “At work.” “At eight in the evening?” Marina said nothing. “What’s happening?” Marina cried. Really cried – loud, desperate. “He left. Said he wants to live for himself.” Her mum was silent. Then: “He’s a rat. A real rat.” Marina was surprised. Her mum never swore. “I always thought Igor was weak. But this much…” “Mum, maybe I’m wrong? Maybe I should’ve understood?” “Marina, is it hard for you?” The simple question made it clear: she’d only ever worried about Igor. His comfort. His tiredness. Never herself. “What do I do?” “Live. Without him. Better on your own than with someone like that.” Igor came back Saturday. Tanned. Must have been “thinking” at the cottage. “Can we talk?” “Yes.” They sat down: “Marina, I get it’s hard for you. But it’s hard for me too. Can we make a deal? I’ll help with money, visit. But for now, I’ll live separately.” “How much?” “What?” “Money. How much?” “Maybe £200 a month.” Two hundred pounds. For a child, food, medicine. “Igor, go to hell.” “What?!” “You heard me. Don’t come back.” “Marina, I’m offering a solution!” “Solution? You want freedom? What about my freedom?” Then Igor said a sentence that put everything in place: “What freedom? You’re a mum!” Marina stared at him. There he was – the real Igor. Spoiled, childish – thinking motherhood was a life sentence. “I’ll claim child support. Quarter of your salary. Legally.” “You wouldn’t dare!” “I would.” He stormed out. For the first time, Marina felt she could breathe. Max cried. But now, she knew: she’d cope. A year went by. Igor tried to come back twice. “Marina, can we give it another go?” “Too late.” Igor complained Marina was cruel. Unconvincingly. Marina found a nanny, started a job as a nurse. At work, she met Andrew, a doctor. “Got kids?” “A son.” “What about his dad?” “Lives for himself.” Introduced them. Andrew brought Max a toy car. They played together, laughed. Soon, they walked in the park together all the time. Igor found out. Rang: “The kid’s a year old and you’re with other men!” “What did you expect? Me to wait for you?” “But you’re a mum!” “Yes, I am. So?” He never called again. Andrew was different. If Max was ill, Andrew came straight over. If Marina was exhausted, he’d take her and Max to his cottage. Max is two now. Calls Andrew “uncle”. Doesn’t remember Igor. Igor remarried. Pays child support. Marina isn’t angry. Now she lives for herself, too. And it’s wonderful.