My Mother Never Cheated—There Was Never a Third Party in Their Marriage. But She Was Difficult to Live With, Always Complaining About Everything

My mum never cheated on Dad.
There was never a third person in their marriagenot even the hint of one.
But she was a hard woman to live with.
She grumbled about everything, nothing ever seemed good enough.
If Dad came home worn out from work, shed chastise him for not helping around the house.
If he did help, she told him he was doing it wrong.
If he brought shopping home, they werent the things she wanted.
If he stayed faithful, shed suggest, You dont act like a real man. I remember the wordless evenings, tensions at dinner, the doors slammed a little too hard.
Dad tried to stick it out for years.
I watched him change jobs to earn more pounds, drop his mates and come straight home after work.
But Mum always found something to nitpick.
Shed inspect his clothes, question who hed been speaking to, what time he left, why he was five minutes late.
There was no violence, no explosive rows, but the atmosphere was heavy, relentless, draining.
Living there felt like tiptoeing through the house to avoid sparking another outburst.
The night Dad left wasnt because of another woman.
It followed a long argument.
I was in my room when I heard him say quietly, I cant take it anymore.
Im tired of feeling like Im never enough. Mum snapped back that if he walked out, he was a coward.
He didnt shout.
He just packed his things and left.
I stood by the window and watched him walk slowly away without looking back.
Afterwards, Mum told her version to everyonesaid hed abandoned her, left her alone, that he didnt have the backbone to be her husband.
I believed her.
For years, I was angry at Dad.
I saw him only on rare occasions and talked to him coldly.
He never spoke ill of Mum.
He never tried to justify himself.
He just told me he loved me and respected how I felt.
As time passed, I started noticing Mums pattern repeating with me.
Nothing I did was enough.
If I studied, it wasnt good enough.
If I worked, it wasnt the right job.
If I rested, I was lazy.
Then it hit me painfully: Dad hadnt left because of cheating, but because he was drained emotionally.
Recently, I asked Dad straight out why he left.
He told me, Because I was losing myself.
I started to believe I really wasnt worth anything. I cried so much that day.
Because I realised Id judged him without ever knowing the whole truth.
Now, Mum and Dad are still apart.
Mum is the samediscontented, bitter, in conflict with everyone.
Dad lives quietly on his own, with no drama.
I carry a strange mixture inside: guilt for not understanding him sooner, and relief for finally realising that Im not everything Mum says I am.