I was six months pregnant when I found out about another woman in my husband’s life. It turned out she had always been there. I cried a lot but didn’t file for divorce to ensure that my child wouldn’t grow up without a father.
Days, weeks, and months passed, but this life didn’t bring me happiness. One day, I went to my parents’ place in another city for a few days. There, feeling unwell, I visited a doctor. They didn’t find anything serious but prescribed some pills. I had little money, so I called my husband and asked him to transfer some money to my account. He replied, “Your parents are with you; take it from them.” I was shocked and hurt by his response to the depths of my soul.
It felt like he wasn’t the same person I knew, and it was as if I was begging him for money. When I returned to my city, I saw half-empty closets. My supposedly faithful coward had fled, taking his belongings and some of mine. After that, we didn’t see each other. Attempts to resolve anything over the phone always ended in arguments. I instantly became a stranger to him, and my pregnancy was no longer of interest to him. I moved out of the rented apartment and went back to my parents. Six months later, I gave birth to a precious little daughter.
After that, my husband continued to call me, asking me to forget the past and return to our family life. But I couldn’t forget his behavior, and I didn’t want to live with such a person again. I couldn’t bear being treated that way.
Our shared history with that person was over. If I ever have the chance to find new love and create a new family, I’ll do everything to avoid repeating past mistakes. I’ll only marry someone who respects and loves me, not someone who mistreats me because they’re afraid of losing me forever.