On December 31, 2018, he called to tell me he was moving out of the house. He didn’t want to marry me anymore. In my mind, I became the bad thing in his life—the thing people cut off on December 31st because they don’t want to carry it into the new year. I asked him, “Don’t you think you’re going too far? We can make it work. We were trying, so why this drastic decision?”

His mind was made up. He didn’t want to hear any contrary views. I was in the Netherlands, visiting my sister. I begged him to wait for me. I wanted to speak with him face-to-face and see if I could change his mind. When he asked why he should wait for me, I told him, “Because I want to see you walk out so I can believe you’re really gone.”

I cut my visit short and came back, only to find an empty house. His presence, along with anything that reminded me of him, was gone. Even the sofas, the carpet, and the photo frames—everything was missing except for the family portraits. It was as if he was saying, “I don’t want to leave with anything that reminds me of us.”

Our son was three years old. I wanted the marriage desperately because of him. I hated the idea of him being raised by a single mother. He loved his dad so much that I thought it would break him to see his dad leave. Our troubles were bigger than us, but I was ready to work through them.

He cheated, and I found out. He blamed me, saying he didn’t feel respected because I earned more money than he did. I thought he had a point. Even my parents agreed I had taken his place as the man of the house. I forgave him, but he couldn’t forgive himself. He became paranoid, convinced I was involved with the powerful men I dealt with daily—especially those who called at odd hours for business-related information.

If I picked up their calls, he had issues. If I didn’t, he’d say, “They’re calling you; why won’t you pick up? Are you trying to hide your sins from me?”

Things got so bad that I blamed myself for everything. “Maybe if I didn’t have money, all these problems wouldn’t exist.” When he left, and I was certain he wasn’t coming back, I even considered resigning from my job to win him back.

I called him at odd hours, using our child as an emotional card to get his attention. I’d ask if he had eaten or joke about the last time he enjoyed his favourite meal. When he said he hadn’t eaten it in a long while, I cooked it and had it delivered to him.

One evening, I decided to deliver it myself, intending to spend the night with him. When I got there, another woman was with him. She seemed to know me because she folded awkwardly and asked for permission to leave. When she left, I seduced him and we had a round together. Afterwards, I asked if he missed me. He didn’t say a word. He dressed quickly and left me lying on the floor, where my dignity and the little respect I had left also belonged.

Even during court proceedings, as we signed the divorce papers, I clung to hope. I would bring our son along to play the emotional card. But he didn’t care. He was cold and determined to end the marriage.

At what point did I realize I was fighting a losing battle?

There wasn’t a single moment. It was a cycle, one I kept going through until I got tired. When the divorce was finalized, I took down the family portraits. It felt like making a statement: “Time to move on, girl. You lost a marriage, but there’s a whole world out there waiting for your grace.”

It was gradual—taking down the portraits, removing my ring, dropping his name from my social media profiles. I did something new every day until it stopped hurting.

On December 31, 2022, he called me. We talked extensively. It wasn’t the first time he’d called, but this one felt special. He said, “I called to celebrate the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life, but such is life. You’re a good person. I knew it, but that didn’t stop me from leaving. Was I mad?”

She Came To Do Industrial Attachment


I giggled and mirrored his words: “Such is life.” When I put the phone down, I cried a little. Joy? Contentment? Regret? Sadness? I don’t know. But those tears didn’t break me—I was too far gone.

The world, amazingly, was receptive. It embraced me back into its fold like I had never left. This year, December 31, I want to call him back and respond to his question:

“Was I mad?”
“I don’t know. But whatever that was, I’m happy it happened, because I found a world I didn’t know existed when you were gone.”

— Evelyn

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