I always fancied myself a bit of a love connoisseur. But life, ever the cheeky tutor, made sure I learned the hard way: what goes around comes around, and karma has a habit of settling the score with interest.
At twenty-five, I married not so much for love as for the thrill of staying in London, far from my sleepy hometown where everyone knew everyone else’s business. In the city, I felt free from prying eyes and small-town gossip.
### The Affair with the Best Friend’s Bloke
It all started when my old schoolmate introduced me to her boyfriend, Oliver. Tall, dark-eyed, with a grin that could melt pavement—he caught my eye straightaway. Maybe it was the forbidden fruit effect, but I made it my mission to win him over. Oliver, poor chap, didn’t stand a chance, and soon we were sneaking around behind his girlfriend’s back.
Our rendezvous were heady with passion and mischief. I didn’t stop at Oliver, though—I kept flirting with other men, basking in the attention and the thrill of being in control. Oliver knew about my escapades but, being tangled in his own mess, couldn’t exactly protest.
Then one day, he spotted me stepping out of another bloke’s car. That was the tipping point. Oliver declared he couldn’t share me anymore and offered to dump his girlfriend if I’d commit to him. I agreed, flattered by his dramatics and the prospect of free lodgings—London rent being what it is.
### Boredom and Old Habits
Our cohabitation quickly turned dull. I missed the excitement and freedom. When I bumped into an old flame, Thomas, I couldn’t resist revisiting past thrills. Our secret meetings became regular, and suddenly, life had flavour again.
Before long, I was back to my old ways—flirting, fleeting flings, the works. One day, without so much as a word to Oliver, I packed my bags and left, leaving only a scribbled note to say it was over.
### The Plot Twist
A month later, I discovered I was pregnant. Facing the grim reality of single motherhood, I crawled back to Oliver. When he heard about the baby, he proposed—more out of duty than devotion, but I said yes, hoping domestic bliss might bloom from necessity.
A year after our son, Harry, was born, I was expecting again. Now with two children, my life became an endless loop of nappies and laundry. Oliver buried himself in work, and I felt trapped, suffocated by the very stability I’d once chased.
### The Fallout
One evening, I came home to find a note from Oliver: *»I’ve filed for divorce. We’re done.»* He’d vanished, leaving me with two toddlers. Later, I learned he’d gone back to his ex—the very friend I’d stolen him from in the first place.
Now here I am, alone with two little ones, no support, no safety net. Life’s a funny old thing, isn’t it? Turns out, what you throw into the universe has a habit of boomeranging right back at you—usually when you least expect it.