I remember, as if it were yesterday, living alongside my wife for thirty-four years, though now, in the winter of my life, I found my heart drawn elsewhere, and I scarcely know what to do.
My name is Henry. I am sixty-five years old. I have a wife, Margaret, who is sixty-two. Our son, Thomas, is grown, married, and has children of his own.
After Thomas left home and started his own family, I realised Margaret and I had slowly drifted apart. We barely knew one another, it seemed.
Upon our retirement, I yearned for a quiet life in the countrysidea little cottage somewhere in the Cotswolds perhaps. Margaret, however, had little interest in rustic living. Still, I persuaded her, and soon enough, we bought a charming cottage. Together, we moved there that summer. I found great joy in those long, quiet days, but Margaret wasnt fond of it. She much preferred long afternoons on the settee with a good book or her favourite television programme. She refused, quite firmly, to help me in the garden, always saying she felt unwell. The burden of tending the land fell entirely to me.
When autumn arrived, we returned to London. Margaret was delighted to be back amidst the citys bustle, but I was not. Within a week, I gathered my things and went back to the countryside alone; I felt myself more at home beneath those wide, silent skies. Margaret chose to remain in the city, and so our meetings became few and far between.
It was there, amidst fields and hedgerows, that I met another ladyEleanor, aged sixty. At first, she regarded my affections with reserve, but in time, we grew close, and now there is warmth and understanding between us that I scarcely remember having before.
I long to divorce Margaret, yet I am deeply anxious about Thomass reaction. For now, I continue to tell Margaret I am busy managing things at the cottage. The truth is, I spend a great deal of my time with Eleanor, whose company brings me happiness I thought was lost to me.
Margaret knows nothing of this. I simply cannot decide whether to tell her I wish to part ways. The question gnaws at mewhat should I do? I remain as uncertain now as ever, haunted by both the past and the unknown future.
