Driven to Despair: The Tale of My Ex-Husband’s Breakdown

13March I asked Poppy to look after Charlie for a couple of hours while I met the lads. Alex, I really need to see the doctor, she said, eyes narrowed with a hint of frustration. I snapped up from the sofa. Cant, love. Ive got a night out with the boys. Im due to head out soon. She pressed on, Its serious. My headaches wont ease and my back feels off ever since the birth. So much has changed I glared back, irritated. I cant change the appointment, Poppy. Its fixed three weeks in advance. I shrugged as if it were nothing. Youll just have to wait another three weeks, nothing will kill you.

The flat door slammed; a quiet whimper drifted from the nursery Charlie had woken again. I slipped on my jacket, checked the pockets, and was out the door. Poppy sighed, grabbed her phone, and dialed the GP surgery, wrestling with the chirpy hold music that replaced the usual beeps. Finally she got through. Hello, I need to cancel todays appointment She flopped back onto the couch, looking exhausted. Postnatal health had become a lottery: her spine cramped so she couldnt straighten, her head throbbed like a hammer inside. Doctors waved their hands, saying she needed tests, but tests took time and someone had to watch the baby.

I didnt care. The past two years felt like a different life. During the pregnancy Id literally carried Poppy; I lugged heavy shopping bags, cooked, even gave her foot rubs at night. I told her she was the most beautiful woman and that I was endlessly happy. She believed every word, thinking shed hit the jackpot with me. Then Charlie arrived and everything shattered. Screams, endless nappy changes, sleepless nights stripped away any mask I wore. I shouted at Poppy when she couldnt tidy the flat fast enough, I yelled at Charlie when he wailed in the night, I hurled dishes, slammed doors, disappeared to the pubs and returned after midnight.

You look at yourself! Id shout, pointing a finger. Do you even look in the mirror? Wheres my beautiful wife gone? Hippowife! Poppy stared back, dark circles under her eyes, hair a mess, an old homeworn tee stained with baby food, extra pounds clinging despite barely eating two meals a day. How could she find time for herself when Charlie was feverish, teething, or his tummy hurt?

You only think about the child, hes the centre of your world, Id say, pulling on my boots. Do you even need me? She stayed silent she had nothing to answer with. Yes, she thought of Charlie. How could she not? He was her son.

Poppy hit a breaking point, wanting nothing more than to collapse and never get up. She was trapped within four walls with a screaming infant and a husband who saw himself as the biggest victim. She also had no prospects of work. The firm shed been with folded, the owner fled with debts, the office was locked up and the staff dismissed. She was on maternity leave, so the impact was softer, but Charlie would soon be three and she knew shed have to find a job. A threeyear gap on a CV and a toddler werent attractive to employers.

She dreamed of taking Charlie to nursery, stepping out onto the tube, commuting to an office, chatting with real people instead of a toddler whose only interest was cartoons. She wanted to remember who she had been before motherhood.

Charlies third birthday, Poppy organised the party herself. He darted around in a new onesie, rosycheeked and delighted. Alex was nowhere to be seen.

Alex, wheres Alex? asked his mother, Svetlana, looking around as if expecting him to pop out from behind a curtain. I dont know, Poppy replied weakly, forcing a smile. Hes probably delayed. His father, Igor, frowned. Delayed? Its his sons birthday! Poppy could only shrug. Shed called him, texted him a dozen times, but received no reply.

The guests exchanged glances, saying nothing aloud. Poppys mother, Vera, squeezed her hand under the table a quiet support that changed nothing. The celebration went on with strained smiles; Charlie was happy, the adults pretended everything was fine. Poppy sliced cake, poured tea, forced a grin. Inside, something was cracking, turning to pieces that could never be reassembled.

Later that night the guests left. Charlie fell asleep instantly, never waiting to be changed. Poppy tucked him into his cot, adjusted the blanket, and went back to the living room, where chaos reigned: dirty dishes, crumpled packaging, deflated balloons. She started clearing, moving mechanically, washing plates, wiping the table.

A key turned in the lock and she froze. Midnight struck. She glanced down the hallway Alex stood in the doorway, swaying, eyes bloodshot, shirt rumpled, cheap perfume clinging to him, a bright red lipstick mark on his cheek. He saw Poppy and froze.

Poppy, it isnt what you think, his voice cracked. I had a drink too much. I met a girl just once I swear it wont happen again! Poppy exhaled slowly, a chill spreading through her.

Where have you been? she whispered. I was out with the lads, went into a bar, there were girls, and one She cut him off. On our sons birthday, she said sharply. You were with some girl when Charlie turned three! Alex pleaded, Poppy, Im sorry! I didnt mean to it just happened! Just happened? Poppys voice trembled. Youre a traitor, a liar. I trusted you completely. We have a family, a child! I never thought youd stoop to cheating! Alex snapped, Its your fault! Look at yourself! There are plenty of pretty girls out there and I come home to you! Of course I get distracted! Im a young man, I need love!

Poppy turned and walked to the nursery. Alex called after her, but she didnt look back. She shut the door, entered the room with Charlie, lay down on the narrow bed beside him, and stared into the darkness.

In the morning she packed her things and Charlies. Alex tried to stop her, grabbing her arm, begging for forgiveness, a second chance. She didnt give in. She called a taxi, loaded the suitcases and drove to her mothers house.

The first weeks were rough. Charlie didnt understand why they were now staying with Grandma, he cried, called for his dad. Poppy held him, kissed his forehead, whispered that everything would be alright, though she didnt believe it herself. Gradually life settled. Vera helped with Charlie while Poppy looked for work. After a month she found a job nothing fancy, but steady pay in pounds and a decent manager. The divorce was finalised; Alex didnt fight it, he only asked to see his son. Poppy agreed; Charlie loved his father.

A few months later she moved into a modest onebed flat her own space, her own home. Alex began dropping by. At first rarely, then more often, helping fix a leaking tap, assembling furniture, taking Charlie for walks. Poppy allowed it, not for herself but for Charlie. He laughed with his dad, climbed onto his shoulders, and Poppy couldnt take that away.

Six months after the divorce Alex remarried. Poppy saw them by chance in a shopping centre his new wife, Vicky, tall, slim, immaculate, hair sleek, short dress, makeup flawless. Alex boasted, Vickys a proper housewife, the house is always spotless, dinners always ready, she looks like a model. Poppy nodded, fury simmering beneath.

Then an idea struck her. She would get back at him, small, petty, but fair. She started calling Alex all the time. Alex, Charlie wants to play, can you come over? Alex, the kitchen tap is leaking, could you help? Alex, Charlie misses you, when will you visit? He kept coming, because he wanted his sons affection. Their chats stretched an hour or two; she told him about Charlies antics at nursery, laughed, asked questions. Alex answered eagerly, as if hed missed that contact.

Eventually Vickys voice crackled, Alex, are you talking to her again? Stop it! Alex tried to brush it off, but Poppy could hear the tension, and it eased her mind.

Months later Alex turned up unannounced one evening. Poppy opened the door to his dishevelled face, jacket crumpled, eyes haunted.

Were divorcing, he said, stepping inside. What? Who? Poppy shut the door, leaning against it. Vicky left. She couldnt stand it. What couldnt she stand? Us. Our connection. Poppy smirked, coldly. What connection? We spend all this time together. I thought you? You think were back together? she crossed her arms. No, Alex. Ive been with someone else for a month now, and Im happy. Alexs face fell, then twisted. You think Ill keep paying child support to some stranger? You led me on! He shouted. I never promised anything, Poppy replied calmly. You came running like a dog, trying to be part of the family again. I dont need you. I cant even afford a cat, let alone support you.

He sputtered, You you She stepped to the doorway, flung it open. Go, Alex. Dont come back without warning. He lunged, Youre not a proper woman! He grabbed his coat and fled, shouting, Youre a petty, vengeful snake! She shrugged, Maybe, but you made me that. The door slammed. Poppy leaned against it, closed her eyes. There was no joy, no relief, just emptiness.

She knew shed acted poorly, but Alex had once shattered her dignity, belief, love. Shed simply returned the same coin. She went to Charlies room; he slept, arms spread. She sat beside him, ran her fingers through his hair.

That chapter is closed, forever. Yes, Ill still see Alex Charlie loves his dad, and I wont block that. But now I can look at him as a victor, remembering how I turned the tables.

Lesson: neglect and selfishness only sow loneliness; treating those who love you with respect is the only way to avoid a life of bitter revenge.