Taken from life. “My husband said he never loved me”: 45 years of marriage, and he goes to a young mistress. He has money

I met him when I was nineteen. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/939b78/620x0/1/0/2025/04/13/p4cqe9ybvpwzzdvehpjma4xnyo1euuzb3dveuh4bu.jpg" alt = "older pair @pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (93,105,116.0.53)" > < p > He was handsome, confident, hard -working. My friends m & oacute; I caught a good candidate for my husband. I m & oacute; I had caught the love of life. The wedding was modest but honest. On & ndash; in a navy blue suit. I & ndash; in a dress sewn through the neighbor. We started the cooperation with two suitcases and a dream of home, children and old age for two.

< p > for forty -five years I was a wife. This faithful, this understanding, the one who endured long hours of his work, his explosions, his silence. I raised children, looked after his sick mother, put off the money, cooked his favorite dishes. Sometimes I waited for p & oacute; łnocy, until & oacute; I thought that this is what love looks like — patient, understanding, quiet.

< p > until one day, at breakfast, he looked at me differently. Not with tenderness. Not from the shadow of the & oacute life. Only cool. Foreign.

< p > & ndash; We have to talk & ndash; he said. & ndash; I don't want to pretend anymore. I never loved you. It just was so comfortable. Now I have someone else. Younger. With her I feel known in a man.

< p > I froze.

< p > & ndash; But & hellip; We have children. Grandchildren. House. Life & Hellip; & ndash; I whispered.

< p > & ndash; Exactly. I have already done my job. And now I want something for myself. I have money. I can afford it. < p > packed the suitcase. He did not take the memories. He didn't take the photos. He did not take me. < p > I stayed in an empty house, with a cup, who kept the oacute; With his bathroom bathrobe. And with the question: was I really just a background for 45 years ? Can I live alongside someone for so long & hellip; and never really be loved ?

< P > Now I learn to live again every day. Not because I want to. But because I have to. With b & oacute; lem, with regret, with a broken heart. But also with the hope that even if he never loved me — I really loved. And that makes me stronger than he will ever.