I didn't suspect anything. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/e5d94f/620x0/1/0/2024/11/03/ucdmjv8ojvguonfhozpkus5ftpvtjz32r51eqwml.jpg" alt = "woman @pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (149,153,141,1)" > < p > sometimes I wonder when the lie began.

< p > or when for the first time the & oacute; was p & oacute; Oacute; Wił & I love you & 63 ~< br /> or maybe all this was a lie from the very beginning ?< /p > < p > for twenty years I was sure I was his only woman.

< p > It turned out that all these years he divided his life between me and & hellip; her.

< p > I did not suspect anything.

< P >We were a successful marriage & ndash; At least I thought so. We had a house, a stable life, everyday rituals that gave me a sense of security.

< p > — Honey, Wr & oacute; a little p & oacute; I have a lot of work — m & oacute; kissing my forehead.

< p > I believed him.

< p > — You know that you can always count on me — he repeated, holding my hand.

< p > and I trusted him.

< p > because how could I not trust the man with which I spent most of my life ?

< p > until one day I got a phone.

< p > unknown number.

< p > — Good morning, do I talk to Marta Kowalska ?

< p > — Yes, what's going on ?

< p > — I'm sorry I am calling & Hellip; But I have to talk to you about Paweł.

< p > I froze.

< p > — Who are you ?

< P >There was silence on the other side.

~ P > and then I heard a sentence that changed everything.

< p > — I am his wife.

< p > The world stopped.

< p > I don't remember what I answered. I don't remember how this conversation ended.

< p > I just remember that my hands were trembling when I was to call Paweł.

< p > did not answer.

< p > ~ amp; oacute; I won once, second, third.

< p > silence.

< p > I finally sent a message:

< P > & AMP; Paweł, who she is ? & &

< p > no wr & oacute; < p > no wr & oacute; and the next day.

< p > When he finally spoke, he stood in the door with eyes full of guilt.

< p > — Marta & Hellip; Posew & oacute; l explain it. < p > — NO. You tell me if it's true.

< p > sighed heavily.

< p > — Yes

< p > I felt something in me.

< p > — How long ?

< p > — Twelve years.

< p > twelve years & hellip;

< p > all my reality collapsed in an instant.

< p > for twelve years he led the rod & ryne.

< p > He had a house there. He was also a husband there. There he was a father.

< p > and I never knew about anything.

< p > I was only half of his life for him, which he could hide.

< p > I did not beg him to stay.

< p > I did not shout, I did not throw things.

< p > I stood there, looking at a man who was my husband, but I didn't know my husband anymore.

< p > — I will never forgive you — I said quietly.

< p > did not answer.

< p > just came out.

< p > and I was left alone.

< p > but at least for the first time in years I knew the truth.

Natasha Kumar

By Natasha Kumar

Natasha Kumar has been a reporter on the news desk since 2018. Before that she wrote about young adolescence and family dynamics for Styles and was the legal affairs correspondent for the Metro desk. Before joining The Times Hub, Natasha Kumar worked as a staff writer at the Village Voice and a freelancer for Newsday, The Wall Street Journal, GQ and Mirabella. To get in touch, contact me through my natasha@thetimeshub.in 1-800-268-7116