I’d been in that relationship for five years. We were married for two years and lived together for three. While we were engaged, we spent most of the time apart. We’d see each other once every three months, and there was a year when we only saw one another twice, because of his work. At the time, I didn’t see this as a problem. In fact, I thought our relationship was ideal. We missed each other deeply, wed cry during phone calls, overflowing with love in our messages and video chats. We never argued. Neither of us was jealous. We respected one anothers space. He could go out for dinner with his friends, I could go to a party, and it didnt matter. He even helped me pick my outfits. And it wasnt about provocative clotheshed often tell me that a certain dress looked too tight, suggesting I wear something that suited me better. He was never controlling. Quite the oppositehe seemed proud of me and how I looked. Everything felt healthy, calm, perfect.
One December was especially tough because we knew we wouldnt see each other for Christmas or New Years. We were both sad and disappointed. That was when he asked me to move in with him, to come to his city. I thought about it, spoke with my family, and they said that if its what I truly wanted, it was fine. So, I left my job and moved in with him.
The first few months went well. That first year living together was all about adaptinglearning each others quirks, how we woke up, how we acted when hungry, what pressed our buttons and what didnt. Since I was unemployed, I looked after the house. Everything felt easy.
The second year was even better. We really became a team and entered an intense phase of infatuation. We wanted to be together all the time. If he wasnt at work, we were side by side. We looked and acted like newlyweds. Everything was just right. I felt like Id made the right decision.
But by the third year, things started to shift. He began staying out late. Wed always shared our location with each other on our phones, and then, one day, he just switched it off without a word. He started coming home at five or six in the morning when he was meant to start work at eight. Hed jump in the shower, eat breakfast, and head straight out again. No explanations. Arguments became the norm.
Then something happened that left a mark. I found makeup smudges on his white shirtfoundation and lipstickon the collar and sleeve. It wasnt a tiny stain; it was obvious. I asked for an explanation. Thats when he told me something Ill never forget: that hed had to go looking elsewhere for what I no longer gave him, because I had become boring and obsessed with tidying and cleaning. That was enough. He never said, Yes, Im cheating, but he didnt deny it either. He confirmed it without saying the words.
It broke me completely. I cried endlessly. I felt an actual pain in my chest. I didnt know what to do or how Id get through it. So, I decided to do something for myself. I went back to the gym. I used to train, but after moving in with him, Id stopped. There, I met a man. We started talking. It was nice. One day, he asked me out for a drink, and I was the one who suggested going to his place. He agreed. Wed planned to meet that afternoon. We both knew why.
That same day, back at home after seeing him at the gym, I couldnt shake the thought: This cant be happening. Im about to cheat. He deserves it. Straight away, though, I told myself: No. Im not going to be like him. I decided to end my marriage first.
I waited for my husband to come home for lunch. I wouldnt even let him into the bedroom. We sat in the dining room, and I told him the relationship wasnt working, that hed cheated on me, and I didnt want to know with whom or for how long. That it was over, right there and then. He told me not to overreact, that the woman meant nothing, she wasnt like me, that we could fix things. But I told him I wasnt interested.
I didnt tell him Id met someone else or that I was tempted by another man. I only said I was leaving. My bags were already packed. He asked me where Id go, whether I had someone waiting. I said it didnt matter, Id figure something out.
I walked out of that house with my suitcases and went to the other mans place. When he saw me with luggage, he was startled. I explained that Id just left my husband and that Id be heading back to my hometown the next day. I just wanted to be with him for that night. He agreed.
That night was the most intense experience of my life. I dont know if it was the anger, the pain, everything Id bottled up over the years, but it was unlike anything Id felt before, even with my ex-husband.
The next day, I bought a ticket and returned to my hometown. I had nowhere else to go, so I went back to my parents house. I wanted nothing more to do with my ex-husband. That was two years ago. Now Im single again, working, and renting a flat, and I dont regret leaving him for a second. I almost cheated myself. But I knew when to put a stop, to end things first, and not become what hed been to me.
