The Day I Walked Away

It was 5 in the morning. I arrived at London Heathrow, groggy after having slept poorly on a 13-hour flight. As I dragged my 25kg luggage towards the Arrival Hall, I saw a man in a suit holding up a sign with my name on it. Just as I wondered who had ordered a taxi for me, I saw you running past the driver in my direction. You held my hand and flashed me an awkward smile. Your ring felt like ice against my skin.

“Welcome back,” you said. “Let’s go home.”

A rush of anger welled up inside of me. I stared at you for a few seconds, unable to decide what to do next. I saw your eyes pleading with me. If I hadn’t been so exhausted and jet-lagged, I might have lost control and slapped you. I don’t think you knew how much I hated you.

I caught the Addison Lee driver out of the corner of my eye. He was shuffling awkwardly, unable to leave yet unwilling to stay. I remember wondering if he regretted taking this job. Not that he had a choice. I felt sorry for him, being caught in this awkward exchange between a young, married couple who were no longer mutually in love.

“I’ve booked my train to Oxford,” I told him calmly. The home you referred to was no longer mine.

You stared at me with your signature puppy dog eyes. I just wanted to yank them off your face. I couldn’t forgive you, no, not after you had repeatedly dashed my love for you on the ground and broke it into a thousand pieces, nearly taking my heart with it.

Remember the Marriage Conference we had signed up for? You had cried in front of other couples, our close friends, while declaring and reaffirming your love for me. You told everyone that you’re sorry for being a terrible husband. You publicly promised that you will dedicate the rest of your life to make this marriage work again, to restore my faith in you again, to be the man I married, not the ghost of him. There were no dry eyes that day. Everyone marvelled at your courage to ask for my forgiveness in front of a crowd. Every man and woman in that room was in love with you. This is a true man, this man you married, they came up to me afterwards and said. You should count yourself lucky.

Yes, he is, I said. And he will return the man I married to me. Things will be better again.

It had barely been a week before you went back to your old self-The cold, critical, distant self. No sign of that prodigal husband could be found. I felt cheated. This man had shed real tears a week ago! I knew they were real, or I’d be able to see right through it!

And suddenly, all those moments came rushing back to me: the times you stood in front of the pulpit and cried out, love one another! And would later whisper nasty comments about those you called to love; the times you interacted amicably with people you later confessed to me in private that you despised; the times you used me as an excuse for being the possessive wife who restricted your freedom to socialise and hang out with your friends, when in fact you were too cowardly to admit that you didn’t want to hang out with them, using me instead so you could preserve your sociable, friendly persona that you had carefully built; how you showed your affection towards me in front of others but glared at me while no one was looking when I accidentally dropped a piece of cutlery or spoke too loudly; those evenings I would come home to you sitting in silence, starving and in the dark, when I had told you I was meeting my friends for dinner.

Even now, I dread calling you a manipulator, because I can merely see you as a person who is incredibly out of touch with his self-awareness. You were like an actor on stage, bowing out of your mask and costume only when you retired into the safety of the four walls we used to call home. You were so good that you not only deceived others, you deceived yourself. That’s why I still believe that the tears you shed at that conference were real. You believed in your imagined reality and who you were in it—that imperfect, repentant, loving husband.

But the imagined reality is not real. It was conjured up in your head with you as the lead actor. When you stepped out of the limelight back into real life, you were forced to deal with the practicality of putting your words into action. That was when the lies you told others and yourself fell apart like a house of cards.

My soul was crushed. I blamed myself for being blindsided by your maturity, your Christian-ness, your successful career, your persona. My self-worth took a hit, dragging my self-esteem along with it.

I started applying for jobs outside of London. One interview and two days later, I received a job offer. I was so surprised I told them I had to think about it and call them back. You have until Monday to decide, the hiring manager said. Otherwise, we will have to give it to the second candidate.

Is this it? Suddenly I had doubts in my mind. Is this the beginning of the end?

You asked for a sign, didn’t you? A little voice inside of me said. Why do you doubt it when you’re given one?

10:30 am Monday morning. I called the hiring manager back.

Thank you for the opportunity. Yes, I would love to accept the offer.

And that was the day I opened the door to my new beginning.

That was the day I chose to walk away.