“You don’t get to have a personal life anymore.”
“That’s just how it is, Gwen.”
Peter said it like it was nothing. Just another casual comment, like he was discussing the weather—not packing a suitcase and walking out of her life for good.
“It’s not you, okay? I just stopped loving you a while back. That’s on me, Gwen.”
She didn’t reply. She didn’t blame herself—she’d been a good wife. The kind who kept the house running, went back to work once Alfie turned three.
She was thirty-two but could pass for twenty-five. Fit, graceful, skin still glowing, hair always done. She’d done everything right. If Peter was unhappy, it wasn’t her fault.
“Thing is, I’m tired. I don’t think I’m cut out for married life,” he added, folding his shirts with maddening calm.
“Took you eight years to figure that out?” Gwen finally said.
“Maybe I knew sooner,” he admitted, “Just didn’t have the guts to leave.”
“So, what changed?”
He paused—and she saw it in his eyes. Her instincts had been right.
“How long have you been seeing her?”
“She’s not just some fling,” he snapped. “I love her. I want to be with her. That’s where I belong.”
“How long?” Her voice was flat, emotionless.
“Does it even matter?” he deflected. “You’ve gone cold on me too.”
“Me?”
He stopped packing and sat beside her. She immediately pulled away.
“Yeah. Any other woman would be crying, yelling, begging me not to go. But you? Nothing.”
She had reacted, just… differently.
It had happened an hour ago—after dinner, of course. He’d waited to drop the bomb until he’d finished her lasagna.
“I want a divorce.”
At first, she’d laughed. A joke, surely. Then she’d seen his expression—serious. Detached.
“What are you talking about?” she’d asked, voice shaking.
“I don’t love you, Gwen. I’m leaving.”
The words hit like fire, scorching straight through. But she didn’t fight them. She knew what they meant. And she knew: once spoken, they couldn’t be unsaid.
If he hadn’t admitted the affair, maybe she would’ve tried. Talked it out. Suggested therapy or a weekend away. But now? What was the point in begging a man to stay when his heart had already gone?
“I understand,” she’d said after a moment. “We’ll need to tell Alfie.”
“That’s it?” Peter had blinked, like he’d rehearsed for a meltdown that never came.
“What else do you want?”
Now, hours later, he was turning her strength into a flaw. But Gwen wasn’t unshaken—she was just in shock, already trying to piece together a new life from the wreckage.
“I didn’t go cold, Pete,” she said, rising. “I just know I can’t make you love me. Especially not when you already love someone else.”
He sighed and went back to packing.
“So, what are you going to tell Alfie? That you’re leaving us?”
“Don’t do that,” he groaned. “I’m not leaving anyone. I’ll always be his dad. I’ll help with money, pick him up when needed—none of that changes. I’m just not your husband anymore.”
“We’ll see,” Gwen muttered. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. She waited until she was alone in the bathroom before she let the tears fall.
Peter left. They sat Alfie down, told him Mum and Dad wouldn’t live together anymore. Dad promised he’d still love him.
The days that followed were hard. Returning to an empty home felt surreal. They’d been together since university—eight years of marriage. A lifetime. He’d been her first. Her only.
But the pain dulled, bit by bit. Gwen began to rebuild. Slowly, she even started to enjoy being on her own.
At first, Peter kept his word. He paid generously, took Alfie on weekends, helped out when she was swamped.
But then… the calls became fewer. The weekends missed more often. Probably too caught up in his new love to keep proving he was still a “good dad.”
Still, Gwen managed. Thankfully, the money kept coming—more than the court required.
And then she met someone. Oliver. What started as friendship gradually grew into something warmer.
Somehow Peter found out. Maybe Alfie let something slip—Uncle Ollie stopping by, helping with homework.
Peter called, furious.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit soon to have men around him?”
Gwen nearly laughed.
“Since when is that your concern?”
“It is my concern when my son’s in a house with some guy I don’t even know!”
She did laugh then. The irony was too much.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. Just that Alfie’s seen your girlfriend plenty. Guess that’s okay, since he’s not living there full-time?”
“Exactly! It’s not his home!”
“Right. But it’s your personal life, which apparently you’re allowed to have. Guess what? So am I.”
He mumbled something and hung up.
But the spite didn’t stop.
When Gwen and Oliver planned a weekend away, Peter suddenly bailed.
“Can’t take Alfie.”
“Are you kidding? We agreed. I’ve made plans!”
“Yeah, I know what kind of plans,” he sneered. “Off with your new guy, huh?”
“When did I ever meddle in your personal life?” Gwen snapped. “Why do you think you can interfere in mine?”
“I’m not interfering. I just don’t want my kid around strangers.”
“Oliver’s not a stranger to Alfie—and he’s not some random man off the street. He’s part of my life. You don’t get to police that.”
“Bet you were thrilled when I left. Finally free to do whatever you want.”
“Key word: you left. You cheated. You made that choice.”
“Sure. And you moved on fast, didn’t you? Makes me wonder just how loyal you really were.”
She hung up. Pointless. His jealousy didn’t even make sense—he was the one who walked away.
That weekend, Peter never showed, despite Alfie’s disappointment. Gwen’s sister stepped in.
Then the money dropped. Less than before. Less than legal.
Peter’s excuse?
“You’ve got a new man now—why should I keep funding your lifestyle?”