Heal me Today

“Mummy, do you know what I asked him? I asked if he still loves you… my mum.”

Yesterday, the moment finally came. The turning point that had been hanging in the air for so long.

We both knew the day would arrive.

No, I still don’t have the answer from the bank yet. But yesterday, the situation escalated to the point where he said: “Then let’s tell her.”

Maybe he expected me to back down. To hesitate. To be afraid. But I had already been waiting far too long. The daily pretense—that everything between us was fine—hurt more than the truth ever could.

So yesterday, it ended. And I can finally say: at last.

Yes, I shattered the ideal my daughter had of us, but the truth is always liberating. Cleansing, even. In the beginning, it hurts. But in the end, there is relief. We said what needed to be said. And when we move, it will be just the two of us. He will stay in the city and live his own life.

Her reaction? Shock. Dismay. Running away. Tears. It broke my heart. But then we sat down and talked. We explained that she will still see him, that they will meet as often as she wishes. And in that difficult moment, I appreciated one thing: when she asked him if he loved me — her mum, he told the truth: “Not right now.”

It cut deep, but at least it was honest.

That conversation was surrounded by harsh words—both before and after. To hear, after twenty years of marriage, that your personality is unbearable, that he couldn’t handle you, that he had been lying to himself all along about how he felt about you—that isn’t just an insult. It’s the destruction of everything you once built together.

And yet, for me, yesterday was a breakthrough. I realized that I had been living beside someone who had been manipulating me for years, twisting things to suit himself. And strangely enough, I’m grateful for that truth.

This morning, after a night’s sleep, I spoke with my daughter. I told her that I am here for her. That my goal is for her to be happy. That I will do everything in my power to give her peace. I told her that every feeling she has is valid, that she has the right to experience them all, in whatever way they come.

And she understood.

I am deeply grateful to have such a wise and empathetic daughter. I believe we will get through this—because we are a strong team.

Today I realized something important: my fear is mine alone. And trusting a child to handle even something this heavy is not a mistake.

My 12-year-old faced it with grace.