Discovering my wife’s ex-husband had been at our house for over two hours, I flew into a rage, slapped my wife, and then knelt in tears upon learning the truth.
I loved Priya with all my heart when we were young. I believed that with hard work and perseverance, I could give her a good life. But her mother, Mrs. Sharma, strongly opposed it. She thought that a man who spent his days working as a laborer in the village, carrying bricks and packages, like me, was not worthy of her daughter. My wounded pride and self-reproach led me to decide to leave and seek work far away in Mumbai. I didn’t dare say goodbye, only leaving a vague promise:

“Wait for me. When I earn money, I will come back and marry you.”

I was gone for five years. Five years of toiling on construction sites, enduring all kinds of contempt in the big city, hoping for the day I would return in glory. But when I returned to the village, Priya, the girl I loved, had become the wife of Arjun – a teacher with a stable job. At that moment, my heart was filled with resentment. I confronted her, and only then did I realize that I was the biggest fool. She said she was ready to give up everything to be with me, but I had disappeared for too long. Not a single letter, not a single call. Her mother badmouthed me every day, even fabricating stories that I had married and settled in Mumbai. Finally, in exhaustion and despair, she agreed to marry Arjun. But that marriage was unhappy, childless, and loveless.

When I returned, knowing that Priya and I still had feelings for each other, Arjun took the initiative to let go. He also told me:

“Take care of her for me. I can’t give her the gift of motherhood, nor can I bring her true happiness. For all these years, even though she didn’t say it, I knew her heart still belonged to you.”

Even now, thinking back, I still feel inferior to his magnanimity. After their divorce, Priya and I got married. On our wedding day, as she walked arm in arm into the hall adorned with vibrant marigolds, I thought I had finally conquered fate.

Our married life was happier than I imagined. A year later, Priya gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, whom we named Riya. I loved her, and I loved the sight of my wife meticulously braiding her hair and dressing her in gorgeous salwar kameel dresses, like a little princess.

Our family of three in the small town of Amritsar seemed to have achieved fulfillment. Until Priya turned 17, my small trading company faced a major crisis. From losing partners and running out of capital to being cheated by the most trusted associates, everything I had built my whole life was on the verge of collapse. I aged visibly.

Priya was always there to comfort me:

“It’s okay, honey, as long as we’re still together as a family.”

But she didn’t understand the pain of falling from the heights to the depths.

Then one day, I noticed the smell of cigarette smoke in the house. I don’t smoke. When I asked, Priya said it was from a guest. Her evasive gaze made me suspicious. I checked the security camera footage and was stunned to see Arjun – my wife’s ex-husband – sitting in my living room for over two hours. Jealousy and disappointment exploded. I rushed home, and without thinking, slapped Priya before she could explain. Riya ran out, hugged her mother tightly, her eyes filled with tears. I yelled, “What is he doing here?”

Priya said nothing, only looked at me with a hurt expression. That silence only made me lose control. Then Riya turned to me, screaming through her tears, “Is Dad even human? Mom went begging people just to help Dad, and he hit her!”

That’s when I learned that Arjun was now the director of a bank branch in Chandigarh. Priya had approached him to borrow money, hoping to help me through my difficulties. Afraid I would misunderstand, she invited him to her house, making sure Riya was there too.

I frantically searched for Priya, but she had disappeared. Her phone was off, and there was no news from her mother’s house in the neighboring village. For the nights that followed, I couldn’t sleep. I was terrified, afraid that I had truly lost everything.

Yesterday morning, she quietly returned to get her clothes. I hugged her, crying and apologizing. But Priya simply said, “After I’ve helped you with this, let’s get a divorce.”

When the door closed, I collapsed to the floor. Only then did I understand that the most precious thing in my life wasn’t my career, nor my honor, but the woman who had silently sacrificed for me for so many years, and the daughter who always stood up for her mother.

Now, I no longer dare dream of starting over. I only hope for a chance to correct my mistakes, that they will still let me be with them. If I could have one wish in this life, it would be to be a better husband and father before it’s too late.