The email

Published December 26, 2011 by recover3

Counselling seemed to be going well. Life in general seemed to be going well. I was on summer holidays and we’d just found out that we’d finally got jobs in China. We were excited about this new venture in our lives. I went back to school to work my last few months notice and we began to pack up our lives and ready ourselves to move.

Just before we left we had a farewell party. Although not invited, SHE showed up. I was about to have a freak out about it and then I thought – why? I have nothing to worry about. So I left it. Monday morning I went into school and there was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I eventually gave in to it and went to check his email. Low and behold there was an email from her. She had written that for somebody he supposedly cared about he hadn’t given her a very nice good-bye and that she had just lost everything she loved. She wrote how she didn’t regret anything that had happened and that she wished him well in the future and though she wasn’t sure she’d get the chance, she hoped she’d get to see him again one day. She’d written a bit more than that but that is the essence of the message.

So here I was: we’d both resigned our jobs, given up our flat, accepted jobs in China, borrowed money to make it happen. And then I read that. I couldn’t even breathe. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, nothing. I phoned him and yelled. He of course claimed he had no idea what email I was talking about. Then he got back to me and said he didn’t know what she was talking about – that obviously she’d fallen in love with him during their friendship. But he swore blind that nothing had happened. I ran away from him and hid for a while. I locked myself into our now empty flat and cried. Then I went and confronted her. I asked her who she thought she was sending my husband an email like that and how could she have an affair with a married man. She just shrugged her shoulders. I called her a whore and walked out. I eventually confronted him and yelled more. We had to go and live with his mother, who thankfully was a pillar of strength to for me. I refused to let him anywhere near me. I still didn’t know what to do and he just kept denying that anything had happened. His story never changed, no matter how many times I asked. Little did I know back then what an expert liar my husband was.

Eventually I made the decision to move forward. Some of it was based on the fact that we’d already made this life altering decision to move countries and some of it on the (false) fact that his story never waivered. I didn’t trust him and I didn’t entirely believe him but I had no proof otherwise and the only other alternative was to leave.

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