My husband had been acting strange for a few days.
Every detail of this day was supposed to be perfect. A cake in the shape of a car – my son's favorite model. Colorful balloons that filled the living room. The laughter of children and parents echoing throughout the house. My son was turning eight, and I wanted it to be a birthday he would remember forever. As it turned out, I would remember it too, but for completely different reasons.
My husband had been acting strange for the past few days. He had been quiet, as if something was troubling him. I asked him what was wrong, but he would dismiss me with a smile and assurance that everything was fine. “I don't want to talk about it now,” was all I could get out of him.
The party started on time. Guests arrived bearing gifts, my son ran around laughing, and I was proud of every detail I had managed to organize. Even my husband, though quiet, seemed in the right mood for the occasion. Or at least that's what I thought.
As the kids unwrapped their presents and I watched with satisfaction as my son discovered his dream LEGO set, my husband suddenly asked for a moment of my attention. I looked at him in surprise, as did all the guests. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked from me to our son. He had a strange look on his face—a mixture of guilt and determination.
– I have something important to tell you,– he began, and my stomach tightened.– I'm sorry to do this at a time like this, but… I want a divorce.
The words hung in the air, and I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Silence fell over the room. The children didn't understand what was happening, but the adults looked at me with expressions of shock and sympathy.
– What's this? – I whispered, unable to believe that this was happening. On a day that was supposed to be happy and full of joy.
My husband was avoiding my gaze. & I can’t keep this up. I’m not happy. I’m sorry to say this now, but you need to know.
The guests quickly began to slip out of the room, looking for any excuse to escape this awkward situation. It was just us – me, my son, and the man who had just destroyed our family. My son looked at me, confused, not understanding why his dad was causing such a storm on his birthday.
& Why now? Why at our son’s birthday? – I asked, trying to hold back the tears.
– I didn’t want to wait any longer – he answered briefly, as if that would explain anything.
That evening had turned into a nightmare. I had to explain to the kid why Dad had packed his things and left. I had to endure the stares of people who whispered behind my back as they left our house.
Today, a few months later, I am still picking up the pieces of my life. But one thing I know for sure: that birthday was the end of a story for me, but also the beginning of a new one. A story in which I learned to be strong for my son. A story in which I put myself and my child first. And although that day I felt like my life was falling apart, I know now that it was the beginning of a path to a better tomorrow.
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