It’s true what they say, the longer couples date, the worse their marriages turn out…
Rebecca and Philip had been together for seven years when they finally decided to get married. All these years they hadn’t lived together even for a single day: they were happy with the fact that everyone had their own time and space apart from their partners. It was an accidental pregnancy that forced them to get married.
At first, living together was interesting and exciting for both of them. At first repairs to the small apartment, Rebecca’s grandmother moved in with her parents, freeing up the newlyweds’ living space, then the joint purchase of furniture and other household items… But when everything was done, the young people became somehow uncomfortable to constantly spend time in the four walls.
Philip began to ask his wife to go out for a beer with friends, and Rebecca was happy to let her husband go, spending time with her friends. This life had gradually become the norm, it was comfortable for both of them. Just as in the past seven years, the spouses met at home only very late at night and did not bore each other, it seemed.
The time of childbirth was approaching, and Philip was getting sadder and sadder every day. Rebecca
didn’t pay any attention to it: he might be at work, he might want to tell her himself, until some madam called her and informed her that Philip was going to her place. And, indeed, the man packed his bags and moved out when Rebecca was at the antenatal clinic for a routine appointment.
The most frustrating thing was that her husband did not even bother to explain himself to his pregnant wife, he chickened out. He did not show up for the divorce either… Rebecca went to great lengths to ensure that at the time of the baby’s birth Philip was not in her passport and could be put a bold dash in the “father” line. The girl managed to quickly arrange everything through her acquaintances.
Rebecca had a beautiful son. Alex was a big, healthy boy with adorable dimples on his cheeks. Just looking at her son, Rebecca was comforted and forgot the hurt that had been inflicted on her once beloved and close person. Her parents helped their daughter raise her son. Rebecca no longer wanted to think about relationships with men, the wound in her soul, it seemed, did not intend to heal.
Alex was already three years old when that doorbell rang. Rebecca was waiting for her mother, who was supposed to babysit her grandson, so she didn’t even look through the door peephole and opened the door. On the doorstep stood Philip. He was holding a huge bouquet of pink roses, which Rebecca had always loved, and a big race car, the first gift his son had received in three years.
Rebecca looked at her ex-husband in silence, and he said:
– I’m sorry…I’ll do anything you want for this….
– Do you really think I’m going to forgive you now? So many years have passed…
Alex ran out into the hallway. Before the boy could get interested in the new car, Rebecca
slammed the door and said:
– No. And do not come again. So many years we did not need you, we got used to the fact that we do not need you …
Rebecca was no longer hurt. Over the years, the resentment had long since burned out, all that was left was pity for Philip, who did not have the happiness of raising his own son.
