I Never Loved My Wife and Always Told Her So: The Fault Wasnt Hers We Lived Well Enough
I never loved my wife and told her so many times. The fault wasnt herswe lived reasonably well.
My name is Thomas Whitaker, from York, where memories of harder days still cling like mist over the Ouse. I never loved my wife, Eleanor, and I told her, a bitter truth I could scarcely stomach. She didnt deserve itno theatrics, no scolding, just kindness, patience, a saint in a cardigan. Yet my heart stayed cold as the Thames in December. No love ate at me from within.
Every morning, I woke with the same thought: leave. I dreamed of a woman whod set me ablaze, leave me breathless. But fate played a cruel trick, flipped my world upside down, left me adrift. Eleanor was comfortable as an old armchair. The house ran like clockwork, her beauty turned heads, friends asked, Whered you find her, you lucky sod? I didnt know why I deserved her devotion. A common man, nothing specialyet she loved me like I was her whole world. How?
Her love suffocated me. Worse was the thought that if I left, someone else would take her. More successful, handsome, richersomeone whod cherish what I couldnt. Imagining her in another mans arms filled me with blind fury. She was *mine*even if I never loved her. That possessiveness was stronger than me, stronger than sense. But can you live a lifetime beside someone who sets no pulse racing? I thought I couldI was wrong. A storm brewed inside me, uncontainable.
Tomorrow, Ill tell her, I resolved at bedtime. Come morning, over toast and tea, I mustered courage. Eleanor, sit. We need to talk, I began, meeting her calm gaze. Of course, darling. Whats the matter? she answered, warm as ever. Suppose we divorced. I leave, we live apart She laughed like Id told a joke. What strange thoughts! Is this a game? Listen, Im serious, I cut in. Alright, then. And? she asked, still smiling. Tell me honestlywould you find someone else? She froze. Thomas, whats gotten into you? Her voice wavered. Because I dont love you. Never have, I said like a blow.
Eleanor paled. What? Youre jokingthis makes no sense. I want to leave, but the thought of you with another drives me mad, I admitted, voice shaking. Silence. Then, quiet and tired, she said, I wont find anyone better. Dont worry. GoIll stay alone. Promise? slipped out. Of course, she nodded, watching me. Wait where do I go? I faltered. Youve nowhere to stay? she gasped. No. Weve always been together. I suppose Ill have to stay close, I muttered, the ground crumbling. Dont fret, Eleanor said. After the divorce, well trade the house for two smaller ones. Truly? I didnt expect such help. Why? I stammered. Because I love you. Love doesnt chain, she said. A sentence, not a comfort.
Months passed. We divorced. Then came whispers: Eleanor lied. Shed found anothertall, confident, easy smile. The flat she inherited from her gran? Not a penny shared. I was left with nothingno home, no family, no trust. The betrayal cut like a knife, her voice echoing: *Ill stay alone.* A lie. Cold, calculated, and Id swallowed it whole.
How to trust women now? I dont know. Life with her was comfortable, hollownow even thats gone. In a rented room, staring at the wall, I relive that talk. Her calm, her wordsall a mask. Friends say, Your fault, Thomaswhat did you expect? Theyre right. I didnt love her but wanted her caged. She left me to the solitude I feared. Maybe thats my penancefor the coldness, the selfishness, for never valuing her heart. Now Im alone, and the silence hurts more than her absence. Whos the greater foolme or her? Even I dont know.
