Yes, I know we've been officially separated for the last two years. And yes, I know we've been actually divorced for a year. And that you've told me, several times, that you wanted to meet someone else, move one, have a new life.
But I chose to look at your actions and didn't listen to your words.And to be completely honest, here, you knew what I was doing, and what you were doing. You knew I still loved you, I wrote it to you only two months ago and we had a huge fight over it. You chose to keep on having sex with me for the last two years. I chose that, too.
But I would never have chosen to spend the night at your appartment, often, with our son coming into bed with us in the morning, if I'd even suspected that a third of Now was going to happen. I probably would have gone on having sex with you, but not let our little boy, who thinks it's normal for Mummy and Daddy to have separate homes, think it's normal for Mummy and Daddy sometimes to share a bed, too. What is he going to think now ? What is he going to feel ? He's so big, yes, but in fact he's still a small 4 year old boy.
I would never have spent so much time and energy trying to show how we could be good together, in spite of our differences, in spite of not managing to live together, in spite of MY moving out of our home two years ago. Yes, I moved out. Because they were so horrible together, these last few months. You weren't speaking to me anymore, you hated me. You threatened me, you told me if we got a divorce, you'd do everything in your power to destroy me. And be honest: when I moved out, it was heart-breaking, and hurt us both so much, but then we found each other a little, again. Through sex, yes, but not only. There was affection, too. Tenderness. Love, in my case only though, apparently. I took you out, I convinced you to go to the seaside together, as a family. Spend nights in hotels. Go off for a couple of days, together, for your birthday. As we'd often done, these last eleven years, also.
And I kept telling you that I loved you. No, you certainly didn't say it back. You said you were not interested in that sort of love, that you didn't trust me anymore, because of my professional lies, and that you couldn't trust anything I'd ever said after that, whichever the subject. But you stayed. You kept on having sex with me, agreeing to our outings, meals just the two of us, or with our son, inviting me to spend the night over, going to birthday parties together. I chose to look at all that, and to imagine that your brain wanted all the things you were saying, a proper wife, a proper relationship, what you consider normal, but that your heart, deep down, was still in love with me. And that you were not "really" separating from me because you loved me.
Five days ago, you told me you have met someone.