Alexander and I were married for over a decade. In those ten years, we shared countless experiences—some wonderful, some painful. We raised our two children together, our eldest son, Andrew, and our little girl, Dorothy, who had just turned three. I thought we were a solid, unbreakable family. We didn’t have the perfect marriage, but I believed we were strong enough to weather any storm. After all, surviving together for so long without betraying each other felt like a victory in itself.

That was, until the day I found out Alexander had been seeing someone else. It h!t me like a bolt from the blue, tearing apart everything I thought I knew about him, about us. I was devastated. The betrayal wasn’t just an affair—it was a total disregard for everything we had built, every moment we’d shared, and all the dreams I had for our future. He shattered my trust in the most vulgar, painful way.

I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. I didn’t cause a scene. I simply asked for a divorce. Staying with him after what he had done felt impossible. The love I once had for him had been crushed under the weight of his actions.

At first, Alexander resisted. He begged for another chance, insisting it was a mistake, that we could work through it. But my decision was final. A broken heart doesn’t just heal overnight. When he saw I was determined, he finally agreed to the divorce. But then, in a cruel twist, he told me something that left me speechless: "Fine, let’s get divorced. But the kids stay with me."

I was taken aback. My mind raced. He was serious. He claimed he could give our children a stable, secure future, something I couldn’t do, especially since I was struggling just to get by. His words felt like a slap in the face. But when the initial sh0ck wore off, I started to wonder: could he be right?

He had everything. He’d inherited an apartment in Madrid from his mother, had a stable job at a company in Valencia, and owned a car. Meanwhile, I had spent years dedicating myself to raising our kids, leaving me with just a precarious six-month job and a small studio in Getafe, buried under unpaid bills. I wasn’t in a position to give them the life they deserved. With him, they would at least have food, a roof over their heads, and a semblance of stability. I didn’t want to drag them into a life of poverty.

In the end, I chose the hard road. I decided that they would be better off with him, at least for now. We went to court, and the divorce was quick, with no drama. He waived child support, claiming he could handle it all. I promised I would help however I could. But the reality was har$h. Andrew cried every night for me, and Dorothy, in her innocent confusion, would ask, "Why doesn’t mommy sleep at home anymore?"

During the first few months, Alexander would call me constantly, asking about everything: how to make the baby food, why they weren’t sleeping, how to calm them down. "I’m exhausted!" he would say, his frustration evident.

But as time passed, the calls started to dwindle. Three months later, they almost stopped altogether. Meanwhile, I was adjusting to life without him. I was promoted at my job in Alcobendas and managed to save enough money to move into a larger apartment. I was starting to feel like I had control of my life again, despite the pain of our broken family.

Then, two months later, Alexander called with a sh0cking request. He had changed his mind. The kids were now an obstacle to his new life, and he was burned out. He wanted me to take them back. “I didn’t sign up for this,” he told me over the phone.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The same man who had promised to take full responsibility for our children, the one who swore he’d give them everything, was now asking me to take them back, as though they were an inconvenient burden. And on top of that, he accu$ed me of “abandoning” them, of being a bad mother.

But I wasn’t a bad mother. I refused to be one of those women who destroyed their health trying to meet everyone’s unrealistic expectations. He had betrayed me first, broken the family, and now he expected me to shoulder the burden alone? No. I wasn’t going to do that.

I love my children more than anything, but I made a cold, calculated decision. Some people may judge me for it. Maybe they’ll call me selfish, but I don’t regret my choice. I didn’t abandon my children. I gave them stability, and in the long run, that would be more valuable than anything else. Time will tell who was right.

The kids are happy. They’re thriving in their father’s care, and I’m doing the best I can to provide for them when they’re with me. They know they are loved, and they know that I’m here for them whenever they need me.

As for Alexander, he’s still the same man—looking for someone else to take care of him, unwilling to take full responsibility for his choices. But I’ve learned to let go. I’ve learned that I can’t change the past, and I won’t be dragged down by the weight of his mistakes. I won’t be the one to carry that burden.

Maybe I’ll be criticized for my decisions, but I’ve made peace with it. Because sometimes, the hardest thing a mother has to do isn’t to fight for her children, but to let them go to someone who can give them the life they deserve—even if it means making the hardest choice of all.

Conclusion

This story explores the har$h reality of betrayal and the difficult choices that come after a relationship ends. Sometimes, in the face of pain, the best thing a mother can do is put her children’s future first, even if it means letting go. It’s not about who was wrong or right—it’s about doing what’s best for the children, and sometimes, that means making the toughest decisions of your life.