Victors at the Door: Her Ex-Husband, Divorced Twice, Returns After Four Years

28October2025

I never thought I would write about Victor standing on my doorstep again, but here I am, pen in hand, trying to make sense of the absurd theatre that has become my life.

He was there, the man I married, divorced, and divorced again, the same Victor who left me four years ago. In his hands a bouquet of white roses, on his face the same easy grin that once made my twentytwoyearold heart skip.

Eleanor, Im back, he announced, as if proclaiming a victory in some grand war. Ive realised I made a colossal mistake. Youre the best woman Ive ever known.

I laughed, a thin, nervous smile, and stepped aside. Victor, what a surprise. If youve really come, you can come in but do take your shoes off. I dont want you tracking mud through my house again.

He entered the hallway, expecting an embrace, tears of joy, perhaps even a rebuke he could graciously accept. Instead, I turned back to the kitchen, continued cutting my omelette, and said in an even tone, How are you, Victor? Has your latest fling finally given you a place to crash, or did you decide to look for a temporary sanctuary on your own?

He froze. In the four years since we split, I had learned to keep my composure when the world threatened to collapse. He remembered the eager, forgiving girl I used to be, not the thirtysixyearold woman with steelsharp nerves.

I want to rebuild our family, Victor placed the flowers on the table beside my plate. These years Ive lived as if in a dream. Only now do I see my place is here, with you and the children.

I sipped my coffee, eyes cool. And what has changed? Did your innate talent for disappearing at the worst possible moment finally run out of steam?

He bristled. Im serious! I want to be with you, to look after the kids, to be the husband you saw when I arrived with those flowers and an open heart.

I raised an eyebrow, halfsmiling. An open heart and an empty wallet, as usual? I softened a touch. Sit down. Coffee?

Ten years earlier, a younger Eleanor then Elaine was studying economics at Manchester University when she first met Victor at a student party. He was three years older, working as a security guard at the Trafford Centre, and seemed impossibly mature.

Marry me, he said after two months of courting. Why wait? I know youre the one.

Victor, we barely know each other, I hesitated.

Whats there to know? Love isnt arithmetic, love, he smiled, kissing my hands.

Blinded by romance, I said yes. We rented a tiny flat in Salford, I juggled my degree with nighttime translation gigs to pay the rent, and Victor earned a modest wage, constantly complaining about his bosss unfairness.

Darling, I need a job that lets me be creative, hed say, sprawled on the sofa after yet another termination. These grey office cubicles dont understand me.

Id reply, tallying the family budget, Fine, love, Ill work double shifts. Its nothing.

After my dissertation, I aimed for a banking job my redbordered diploma and language skills opened doors. But then I discovered I was pregnant. Our son Christopher arrived when I was twentythree; a year and a half later my daughter Emily followed.

Children are our greatest blessing, Victor would coo, rocking Emily. Money will come later. Love is what matters.

I became the primary earner, teaching English online via Skype, translating, writing articles, while Victor hopped from one lowpaid job to another, each time justifying the meagre pay as a sacrifice for his soul.

Eleanor, I cant work where my heart isnt, hed philosophise. Better to earn less than to lose myself.

I nodded, exhausted, Inner peace is sacred. The outside will sort itself out.

When Christopher turned four and started nursery, Victor declared, Im emotionally burnt out. I need freedom to find myself. Im filing for divorce.

What does find myself even mean? I asked, stunned. We have two kids, a mortgage on our flat, a loan Im still paying off!

He replied coldly, Thats why I need my share of the assets. Half the flat is mine.

My share? I bought that flat! I took out the mortgage and have been paying it down!

Were a family, Eleanor. Everything acquired in marriage is split evenly. Thats the law.

Reality hit hard. Our twobedroom council flat was all we had. We borrowed from friends, took a second mortgage to buy Victors half, while my mother, a retired schoolmistress, could offer no financial help.

David, I whispered into the phone, if I had the money Id give it all away. My pension is pennies, and this scoundrel

My mothers voice crackled, Dont be so hard on yourself, love. Hes a rogue, but youll manage.

The court set Victors maintenance payments. He paid for two years, then vanished, never calling on birthdays, never sending New Year wishes. He simply disappeared.

A month after the divorce, Michael a former classmate and Victors old friend knocked on my front door with a bunch of daisies.

Eleanor, Ive always loved you, he confessed, I know the timing is terrible, but will you marry me? Ill love your children as my own.

My dear Michael, I cant take advantage of your kindness, I replied, You deserve a woman who loves you wholly, not someone whos using you as a rescue.

Michael, a decent software developer earning a good salary, listened patiently. Im not asking for anything, just a chance.

Im not ready, I said gently. Can we just stay friends?

He agreed, promising to wait, Any amount of time, Ill wait.

Two years passed; I lived with the kids, worked tirelessly, completed a professional development course, and began delivering online economics lectures to parttime students. The extra income finally cleared most of the mortgage. Michael offered help many times, but I refused, not wanting any debt of gratitude.

Eleanor, why the pride? hed tease. Were friends.

Were friends, so I wont ruin it with money, I answered, Your friendship means more than any loan.

Then Victor reappeared, kneeling in my living room, eyes full of contrition.

Eleanor, the past two years have been a wilderness for me. Ive realised family is everything, love only happens once.

Where have you been all this time? I asked, steady.

I was renting rooms, thinking, reflecting, trying to rebuild myself. Im ready to be a proper husband and father.

Our children Christopher, now twelve, and Emily, ten rushed into his arms, remembering the father who used to play hideandseek and read bedtime stories.

Dad, youre not leaving again? Emily asked, clinging.

Never, darling, Victor promised.

I felt the old walls crumble. After four years of solitude, endless fights, and relentless survival, Victors plea finally broke my resistance. We even registered our marriage at the local registry office.

Michael, hearing the news, asked, Why the official paperwork? Isnt living together enough?

Victor wants to show he means business, I explained, And honestly, Id like to believe in some stability.

My mother, ever cautious, warned, Sweetheart, a man who once ran away for freedom may never truly settle.

I know, Mum, but Victor is sincere now.

For a while, life seemed almost perfect. Victor helped with repairs, drove the kids to the seaside in Spain, and honoured his courtordered maintenance. My mother urged, Dont waste that safety net on a childs account; keep a cushion.

Then, as if on cue, Victor announced, Im filing for divorce again. I cant breathe in this domestic cage. I need space for my art.

What are you talking about? I shouted, tears welling. You swore youd changed!

I thought Id changed. No, this family feels like a prison. Im an artist, I need room to fly.

What? You work as a manager in a construction firm! I retorted, incredulous.

He shrugged, You dont get it. My soul craves freedom, and with you I become just another bloke.

The second divorce hit harder. This time I was older, wiser, and had learned to trust my own judgment. When Victor came to collect his things, I hurled his suitcase down the stairs.

Get out and never come back! I yelled, my voice cracking.

He snapped, Dont make a scene! The neighbours will hear!

Let the whole block know what a disgrace you are! Youve abandoned the children twice!

He pleaded, Ill keep paying child support, Ill see them

Two years after the first split you never called! I shot back.

Victor tried to sue for damages for the holiday wed taken in Spain, but lost. The children were left without a father once more, and I no longer hid my bitterness.

Dad, will you ever live with us again? Christopher asked, eyes wide.

No, son, I answered, He chose his freedom over us.

Emily, seven, asked, Is he a bad person?

He isnt bad, love, just he cant keep his promises.

Six months later Michael appeared again, offering solace.

Eleanor, stop suffering because of this bloke. Marry me. Ive loved you for over a decade.

I cant, Michael, I said, anger flashing, I no longer trust any man.

He tried to convince me, Victors been with a lover named Valentina, then Mariah. He uses us as stopover shelters.

I stared at him, stunned. How do you know?

Were friends. Hes bragged about it.

His words lodged like a stone in my mind. My friend Grace, who I confided in, sided with Michael.

Eleanor, perhaps Victor is right. He always returns just when the bills are settled, she said.

Im not foolish, I replied, Two times he left, two times he came back. Thats too many for love.

Months later, after four years alone, I finally understood myself. Michaels prophecy that Victor would return proved true, but I was no longer a pawn.

Victor showed up, eyes pleading, Eleanor, Ive realised life without you is meaningless. Youre the only woman I ever truly loved.

I thought youd gone to Mariah, I replied, placing my coffee cup in the sink. Where did you get that idea?

He swallowed, It doesnt matter. I now know the truth about my search for self. The kids are twelve and ten; they manage fine without a father who drops by with flowers every few years.

I smiled bitterly, Fine. Heres a transfer of £7,000.

Victors voice rang with triumph, That proves Im serious. Ill fix everything.

I stared at the amount, chuckling, You think I can be bought?

He wailed, You still love me, youre scared to trust anyone else!

I shrugged, Ive already accepted Michaels proposal, a few times. Hes a good, decent man.

His anger flared, Michael? That poor wretch whos been in love with you forever! So youve been romancing him while I was looking for you?

I snapped, Enough, Victor. Youre no longer my husband. Leave my life.

He shouted, Youre wrong, Im still your husband!

I replied coolly, Youve used up every chance, and every penny.

Defeated, he fled, his pride wounded.

The children, now teenagers, gathered around. Christopher, twelve, and Emily, ten, looked at me with a mixture of relief and amusement.

Dads gone for good? Christopher asked.

Yes, love, I said, and thats that.

Emily giggled, Can we get cake now? We finally have money!

Pizza, cola, icecream, and the whole Harry Potter series! Christopher declared.

I laughed, hugging them both. Alright, one celebration today, the rest well save for your education.

Later that evening, Victor, now a lodger in a shared flat, rode a crowded bus, cursing his fate. The bank called, reminding him of a £600 monthly loan repayment. He hung up, swearing at the world, remembering the £5,600 hed tried to send my way now wasted.

Michael, hearing the news from a neighbour, called me.

Eleanor, is it true hes back? he asked, voice trembling.

Its over, I answered, Ive moved on, and you should, too.

He fell silent, the line crackling, then hung up.

Two years later, I was promoted to head of a consulting department. Christopher was learning programming, Emily was pursuing photography, hoping to attend art college.

One afternoon at the Trafford Centre, I ran into Michael, now with a young wife, Hannah, and their toddler, Arthur.

Eleanor! What a surprise, he greeted, smiling at his family.

Its lovely to see you, Michael. Youve built a happy life, I replied.

Hannah added, Eleanor, thank you for not letting him waste his time.

I walked away, feeling the weight lift. My choices had finally settled into something steady, free of false hopes and broken promises.

Looking at my children doing their homework now, I realize my life has taken the shape it was meant to. No more drama, no more sacrifices beyond what I chose. Just honesty, hard work, and a little bit of laughter.

Eleanor.