My wife abandoned me and our children two years ago, at a time when things were at their worst.
When Anna stormed out of our apartment with nothing but a suitcase and the cold, “I can’t do this anymore,” I was left standing there with our four-year-old twins, Max and Lily.
We were a family for one minute, then I was alone with two kids and a mountain of expenses.
I was a software programmer at a computer business that promised great profits, but some shady things transpired, and it went bankrupt before we realized it. I went from earning a six-figure salary to receiving unemployment checks overnight.
I could see the disappointment in Anna’s eyes the day I delivered her the news. She was a marketing executive and one of the most presentable women I’d ever seen. But I never imagined she would depart during difficult times.
I drove for ride-sharing businesses at night and delivered groceries during the day.
All the while, I was juggling childcare. Max and Lily were upset and kept asking about their mother.
Fortunately, my parents were close. They assisted with the twins at night and whenever I needed them, but they were unable to assist financially.
Max and Lily, however, were my lifeline. Their little arms around me at the end of a long day, their tiny voices whispering, “We love you, Daddy,” pushed me forward. I couldn’t let them down.
I’m glad the second year after Anna went was so different. I got a freelance coding project, and the customer was so impressed with my skills that he offered me full-time remote employment with his cybersecurity firm.
The salary wasn’t six figures, but it was stable. We relocated to a cozier apartment, and I began to care for myself again. I went to the gym, cooked nutritious meals, and set a routine for the kids.
And then, exactly two years later, I saw Anna again.
While Max and Lily were at preschool, I was at a café near our new home catching up on work.
She sat alone at a corner table, head down, tears streaming down her cheeks.
This woman appeared worn. Her coat had faded, her hair was dull, and the heavy circles under her eyes indicated a lack of sleep.
So what happened? Why was she crying in a random trendy coffee shop? I knew I shouldn’t care. I should ignore her, finish my drink, and leave right away. But she was, after all, the mother of my kids.
Her eyes met mine, and her expression changed from sh0ck to humiliation.
Leaving my cup and laptop on the table, I approach the woman who had broken our home.
“You left us. You walked out without any remorse. And now, two years later, I find you crying in a café? What’s going on?”
Her head shook again. “I can’t explain it, but leaving you was so wrong. I lost my job almost immediately after. I survived on my savings; my parents sent me some money, but they cut me off after a few months. The people I thought were my friends disappeared when I needed them most.”
“I miss you,” she croaked, sniffling. “I want to come back.”
Anna reached across the table, her hand hovering close to mine. “David, please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’ll do anything to make it right. I’ve been living in cheap apartments, hopping from one temp job to another. I’ve had time to think. I realize now what I lost.”
I pulled my hand back. “You didn’t think about Max and Lily, did you? Not once in two years. In fact, you haven’t even mentioned them since I sat down.”
I became increasingly disgusted as I reflected on the situation.
“Please, David. Just give me a chance.”
I stood, turning my back to her. “No,”
I returned to my table, snatched up my laptop, and left.
My Rich Husband Forbade Me from Entering One Room in Our House – I Could Not Stop Crying When I Saw What He Was Hiding
When Alexis’ parents forced her to marry Robert, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. Later, Alexis broke the one rule her husband gave her and entered the room he warned her about, unleashing secrets she wasn’t prepared for.
I couldn’t understand why my parents wanted me to get married before I found someone myself.
“Alexis,” my mother said, “Robert is a catch. He’s a wealthy man who will take care of you. You wouldn’t even have to work.”
I couldn’t refuse. My father had made it clear.
“You marry Robert, Alexis,” he said, puffing on his cigar. “Or you can figure out your own living arrangements.”
In a sense, Robert was my prince charming. Our family had a bakery, which was losing customers because we had no gluten-free options on the menu.
“We will continue to bake what we know,” my father insisted.
Our marriage was definitely an arranged one. Robert’s demeanor was cold, and he refused to let me get to know him properly. I don’t know how my father arranged our connection.
Our wedding was a spectacle of Robert’s affluence, nothing short of extravagant. Robert’s wedding planner had thought of everything.
My wedding dress was a custom piece that he commissioned for me. But even through our wedding planning, we barely spoke.
“I’m looking forward to being married,” he admitted one evening, a few days before the wedding.
“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” he added.
That was the closest Robert had gotten to letting me in.
Two days after our wedding, I moved into our new home.
“Come, I’ll show you around,” Robert said.
He took me around our home, a mansion boasting luxuries I’d never imagined before: sprawling golf courses, a shimmering swimming pool, and a fleet of staff at our beck and call.
“It’s beautiful,” I said when we got to the kitchen. “Everything is beautiful.”
“Now, Alexis, this house belongs to you too,” he declared with a hint of pride.
I smiled at the stranger standing in front of me. Maybe we were going to make something of our marriage.
“But one thing, Alexis,” he said. “There’s one rule. The attic. Never go in there.”
I nodded at Robert. I couldn’t fathom why I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere in the house. But I also recognized that I didn’t know my husband well enough yet. So, I had to obey.
A few days later, Robert went to a meeting, leaving me alone in our massive home.
Driven by curiosity stronger than any warning, I found myself ascending the stairs to the attic. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time.
A quick in and out, I thought to myself.
Pushing the door open, I was met with a sight that sent me to my knees, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know why I was crying. I didn’t know why I felt confusion and relief at the same time.
The attic, dimly lit, seemed to be a vault of my husband’s hidden memories. Childhood toys lay scattered, each carrying untold stories. Old postcards and photographs of Robert’s life before me. Among the relics were letters from a young boy to his father, a soldier away at war.
“How dare you come in here? Now, I have to change the locks in my own home because my wife does not respect my requests?”
Robert’s face turned red with rage.
“I just want to understand,” I stammered. “I just want to know you, Robert.”
Slowly, his rage dissolved, and he seemed to see me as a companion in his world, instead of the intruder he had made me out to be.
“Alexis,” he said, “Come, let’s sit.”
Robert led me to the living room.
“My father was a stern man. He was a soldier and he believed in keeping emotions locked away. These are the only things I have of a time when I felt loved,” he confessed.
My heart caught on his every word as his voice broke.
What followed was a revelation of his soul. Stories of a lonely childhood, of a boy yearning for his father’s approval, unfolded in our home.
In those vulnerable moments, I didn’t see the distant, cold man I had married but a boy who had never stopped seeking love and acceptance. He just didn’t know how to go about it.
In those few hours, things changed. Robert started letting me in. And now, years later, our home is filled with the cries and laughter of our daughter, April.
Through our daughter, Robert healed. He healed for himself, and for our daughter.
We’ve packed away everything from the attic, so it is no longer a shrine to Robert’s past but is now my little reading nook.
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