When I called my husband, Robert, to come and pick me up, he knew exactly where I had been—at my lover, Derrick’s, house. Robert asked me why I was there and all I could say was that I came to say goodbye. It must have been my tone, or perhaps the sadness in my eyes, or very likely the somber vibe in my walk, but for the first time, he didn’t ask anymore questions. We drove all the way home without a word.
When we finally got home, he parked in the driveway. He turned the car off and we both just sat there. Eventually one of us—I don’t remember who—opened the car door and the other followed. We walked inside and sat on the living room sofa. The mood was melancholic and he knew something was up.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked politely.
“You know I love you very much, right?” I asked. When he nodded, I continued. “I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have. Something happened, and it’s really best if you don’t know, but I have to leave—”
“For how long?” he interrupted. When I didn’t say anything, his face grew sad. “You mean a divorce?”
I nodded my head and he got teary-eyed. “After everything I have put you through, you deserve better,” I said. “I can’t give you the love I promised. I broke our vows time and time again. And while I honor the fact that you have stood by me for so long, it’s time we both move on. We deserve happiness. Too much hurt has transpired. We can never make it right. We will always, always remember the past. Never forget that it’s all my fault, so don’t ever blame yourself for my mistakes. I was stupid and blind. You, Robert, are an amazing man. It just took me too long to see it because I was wrapped up in the wrong man.”
We spoke for hours until he came to the realization that, despite the pain, I was right. He didn’t want to give up on us until he realized there was never really an “us”—I never gave us a chance. And then it happened. We smiled at past memories, laughed at our mistakes, and cried about the dreams we could never make come true. By the end of the night, we both had a greater respect for one another and we were both able to move forward.
I moved out a week later and he filed for divorce. The papers read, “Irreconcilable differences.” What it should have said was something like, “Loveless marriage—wife cheats and destroys many lives.”
Robert and I decided that despite the love, and because of our history together, we could never be friends. We wished each other well and moved on with our lives. I never looked back—I simply couldn’t. I had killed my baby, and to this day, I will never know if it was my husband’s or my lover’s. The fact that it could have been my husband’s haunts me every night.
As far as Derrick is concerned, I have no clue where he is in life. I don’t ask and I don’t care. I changed my number and cut ties with him completely—finally. I am certain he has found another young woman to please his soul, and for the first time, I am completely fine with the thought.
My life had to fall apart in order for me to start over. I am happy now and I’m dealing with my demons. I am doing the best that I can, given my history. And while I still have a thing for older men, I will make sure to work on myself first before I fall deep.