After nineteen years of marriage and raising two children, my husband left me for a younger colleague.
I’m 42, and two weeks ago, my world fell apart. My husband, with whom I’d spent 19 years and built a family, told me he wanted a divorce. He admitted openly that he’d been in a relationship with a 28-year-old colleague for two years—and she’s now expecting his child.
Since then, I haven’t stopped crying, tormented by one question: how could I have been so blind not to see his betrayal? I trusted Christopher when he said he was working late on new projects or traveling across the country for business. I waited for him, keeping our home tidy, cooking his favourite meals, ironing his shirts for the week ahead. Never suspecting that all this care wasn’t just for me and our children.
I worried that Christopher was spending less time with the kids, drifting away from our family traditions. His financial contributions to the household dwindled, and he left daily chores entirely to me. I excused it as stress and exhaustion. When he said he couldn’t join our summer holiday this year, I accepted it and took the children to my parents’ cottage in the Cotswolds. Coming home, I noticed he’d changed—withdrawn, distant, avoiding intimacy. Then one day, I caught an unfamiliar perfume on his clothes and lipstick smudges on his collar.
When I demanded answers, he confessed to the affair and said he was leaving. Pleading with him—reminding him of our children, of all the years we’d shared—changed nothing. We’ve begun divorce proceedings with a solicitor. Part of me didn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine life without him, but I knew clinging was pointless.
Now I’m alone, heartbroken and afraid of what comes next. I know healing will take time, but I hope one day I’ll find the strength to move forward—for myself, and for our children.