I used to believe true love never dies. I’ve experienced being loved so deeply and intensely. I firmly believed that was going to last forever.
I got married almost 10 years ago to the man of my dreams. He was inarguably kind, smart, intelligent, God fearing and goodlooking. He showered me with so much love and affection and I felt so secure and confident nothing and nobody would break us apart. I’ve never met any man as dedicated, unselfish, caring, and loving. I felt so blessed. We had our unique style of nightly rituals in the form of loving and sweet gestures and most of the time, we would even sleep holding hands. We prayed and laughed together and considered each other as best friends. Oftentimes, he would tell me we’d grow old together and his love for me was eternal. We would always greet each other during our monthsaries and he never failed to surprise me especially during special occasions; it could range from a simple greeting card to a beautiful bouquet of flowers, an elaborate dining experience, or an exclusive spa and massage treatment for couples, to overnight hotel reservations. Our text messages almost always ended with I love yous.
For over eight years, we hardly had any major disagreements. I honestly don’t remember any instance when we shouted or hurled snide remarks at each other. I cringed whenever I’d see couples fighting or arguing relentlessly. During our early years as a married couple, we were both struggling financially until we somehow managed to reach almost the peak of our careers. My husband then remained very loving, affectionate, thoughtful, and generous. I couldn’t ask for more. Except for one. Our biggest disappointment was my inability to conceive despite all our efforts, even resorting to Intra-uterine Insemination (IUI) and In-vitro-fertilization (IVF). I underwent several surgeries to remove recurring ovarian cysts in the hope that I would be able to give him a child but to no avail. My doctors told me I suffered from endometriosis, one of the most common causes of infertility. Even then, he assured me he would continue loving me even if it was only the two of us. We talked about adoption loosely in the same manner that we would talk about the possibility of migrating.
Conversely, because it was only the two of us, I must admit I had the tendency to be overprotective of him, particularly his health. My world revolved around him. He allowed me to make most major decisions in our married life and subconsciously, I may have become a controlling wife. Being the self-confessed idealist that I am, I thought I was just being myself, determined and straightforward. Little did I know I was pushing him away. He was falling out of love.
It was in our ninth year that he admitted to me he was having an affair with another woman for almost a year and that he was going to be a father in three months’ time. The worst part of it was, he was already in love with the mother of his child and he wanted me to set him free. He asked if he could stay at his parents’ house indefinitely. Our fairytale romance envied by many started to collapse.
How did it happen? Did I feel the so-called wife instincts? Maybe yes, maybe no. Months before the revelation day, I started to feel he was somewhat indifferent, unusually quiet most of the time and would go home really later than usual. I chose to ignore other subtle signs because I thought it was just a phase we were going through. I am also not the type who checks and rummages through her husband’s phone, laptop or wallet. I trusted him so much I never entertained the idea of a third party. Moreover, I’ve always believed I married a man whose moral convictions, values, and principles are beyond reproach. Obviously, I was disillusioned.
Suddenly, I found myself begging for him to stay, to give our marriage another chance. For me, separation was not and will never be an option. I told him I fully accept his child, sincerely acknowledging my inadequacy. I profusely asked forgiveness for all my flaws and shortcomings but he remained callous. Being both Christians, I didn’t envision myself being in that situation. I had so much faith in him and in our relationship that he won’t do anything to ruin our marriage. Afterall, what binded us wasn’t just a piece of paper or a contract but a covenant we professed before God and men. I was willing to swallow my pride just to preserve our union.
One fateful morning, in July last year, he just said he was going to his office, but he never came back anymore. I didn’t know that would be the last time I would see him. No farewells, no hysterics. He didn’t bring anything with him. I waited for him night after night, day after day. I thought he just wanted space so I let him be. Until, reality finally dawned on me that it was really over between us.
It took me several months before I was able to confide in two of my closest friends, trusted churchmates, even in my immediate family members abroad, including my own mother. As expected, they were all appalled. They couldn’t believe it could actually happen to us because they were all witnesses to our love story and how devoted we were to each other.
The first few months were really a struggle, to say the least. I was utterly distraught, devastated, I felt I was on the edge of despair. I didn’t realize a love like ours could dissolve just like that. A lot of times, I drove to and from my workplace with zero visibility because I was crying unabashedly. All the finger pointing, name calling, and the absence of remorse made everything worst. His entire family, whom I was very close to, also turned their backs on me. I felt I lost my purpose and direction in life. I do acknowledge the fact I am far from perfect, however, I believe nothing could ever justify cheating on one’s spouse. I realized I haven’t fully known the man I married.
Later on, I found out my husband and his mistress were staying together in one condo with their lovechild. Even more heartbreaking was discovering that they actually met at the office, sharing the same company. The never-ending betrayal of trust, the blatant lies were too much for me to bear. I honestly considered filing for concubinage. Eventually, I realized I didn’t want to complicate my life any further. I opted to surrender everything to God. Maybe, he doesn’t deserve all my love and loyalty, afterall.
Now, it has been seven months since he left. I’d like to believe I’m moving on. With God’s grace, I survived the first Christmas and New Year without him and his family. I know I can also manage my first birthday in 13 years (including boyfriend-girlfriend) and our supposedly 10th wedding anniversary next month without him.
Life has to go on. There were times my faith seemed to falter. In fact, I didn’t attend church services for a couple of weeks. Lately, I found solace in reading self-help books by Joel Osteen, listening to Christian music in the car, and reading the Bible every so often. Needless to say, my family and friends’ support kept me sane.
I believe the Lord is always in control. We just have to fully trust in Him and He will fight our battles for us. In due time, in God’s perfect time, I will be able to recover and complete healing will take place. Right now, I’m eagerly anticipating the arrival of my newly born adopted daughter. I look forward to a brand-new day, a new beginning, a fresh start sans any bitterness and regrets.
This is likewise a humbling experience for me, I learned my lessons the hard way. I pray that no more women would go through this life-shattering experience again.
I could say that I have forgiven them. Perhaps, I also have to forgive myself. Life is too short to mope on negativity. God has promised us that if we remain faithful to Him till the end, everything will work out for the best. We may not be able to fathom His will, but we simply have to trust in His infinite wisdom.
Indeed, there’s always sunshine after the rain, a sparkling light at the end of a tunnel. As the cliché goes, when you are at your lowest, there’s no way to go but up. Amid all the pains and trials, life is still worth living.
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True name of author withheld upon request