**Diary Entry 12th March**
I see now what Ive done. I wanted to go back to my ex-wife, the woman I lived with for thirty years, but it was already too late.
Im fifty-two now. And I have nothing. No wife, no family, no children, no jobnothing.
My name is Edward. I spent thirty years married to Margaret. I always earned our living, providing for the family while she took care of the home. I never wanted her to workI was happy knowing she was there. But over time, she began to grate on my nerves.
We lived together, respectful but distant, as love faded. I thought it was normal. It suited me. Then, everything changed. One evening, in a pub, I met Emily. She was twenty years youngerbeautiful, kind, and full of laughter. Like a dream come true.
We began seeing each other, and soon, she became my mistress. Two months in, I couldnt bear lying to Margaret anymore. I dreaded going home after work. I realised I loved Emily and wanted her as my wife.
When I finally told Margaret the truth, she didnt make a scene. She stayed calm, and I assumed she didnt love me either. Only now do I understand how deeply I hurt her.
We divorced. We sold the London flat where wed spent so many years. Emily insisted I shouldnt leave it to Margaret, so I didnt. My ex-wife bought a small studio. With my savings, I bought a two-bedroom place for Emily.
I didnt help Margaret, not a single pound. I knew she had no money and wouldnt find work straight away, but I didnt care. Our sons refused to speak to me. They knew Id betrayed their mother and couldnt forgive me.
Back then, it didnt matter. Emily was pregnant, and I was eager for our childs arrival. But when our son was born, he looked nothing like meor her. Friends doubted he was mine, but I ignored them.
Life with Emily was miserable. I worked relentlessly, juggling the house and the baby. She only ever asked for money, always out somewhere. The flat was a mess, meals never made. Shed stumble in at dawn, reeking of gin, picking fights over nothing.
Eventually, I lost my jobtoo exhausted, too distracted. Three years passed like that. Then my brother, who never liked Emily and always questioned the boys paternity, pressured me into a DNA test. The result? Not mine.
We divorced the moment the truth came out. By then, I had no contact with Margaret or my sons. After leaving Emily, I decided to win Margaret back. I bought flowers, wine, a cakethe whole lotand went to her old address. The new owner told me shed moved.
I found her new place. A man answered the door. Turned out Margaret had landed a good job in Manchester and married a colleague. She was happythriving, even.
Later, I bumped into her at a café. I begged her to take me back. She looked at me like I was daft and walked away. Now I understand my mistake. What did I want? What did I achieve? Why did I throw away my marriage for a girl half my age?
Im fifty-two. And I have nothing. No wife, no job, not even my sons forgiveness. I lost everything that ever mattered. And its all my fault. Some mistakes can never be undone.
