I Didn’t Raise Him for Another Woman

For our son’s six months, we were going to a restaurant with friends. On the train, he announced yet another trip. I asked him if he missed us when he traveled. He said no. At the restaurant, I put on a smiling, sunny face. At home, I cried, because it sounded like the end of us. I asked him that we keep separate rooms for one more year, because I couldn’t afford the whole rent on my own and didn’t want to find another roommate. Out of respect for our child, neither of us was allowed to bring our conquests home, and we would take turns going out. He agreed. Then he went out at 3 a.m. and came back around 5. When I woke up that morning, I felt so good, because I knew my life was going to change for the better. I took the baby out for a morning walk. When I came back, he had cooked, cleaned, and moved his things back into our bedroom. While I was eating his meal, he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. He said he could tolerate the idea of our son having a stepfather, but the idea of me with another man was impossible for him. I even saw him cry.