“You Lost, Roman”: How a Man Lost Everything by Betraying the Wife Who Gave Him All
When Eleanor returned from the countryside, where she had left the children with her aunt for the summer holidays, she never imagined she would find another woman in her home. Him. Roman. Her husband. With his bags packed. A cold expression on his face. And a final verdict.
—We’re getting a divorce. Lydia is pregnant. I’m leaving her.
The words struck her like a blow to the chest. She didn’t even scream. Just clenched her fingers around the strap of her bag. He didn’t give her time to process it. Just demanded the house keys and said:
—The house isn’t yours. Not the business, not the accounts—nothing. It’s all in my uncle’s name. You have no rights.
—And the children?— she whispered.
—We’ll split them. But if you make trouble, I’ll leave you with nothing.
He walked out. Lightly, as if their life together had been nothing more than a temporary stay. As if Eleanor hadn’t been the woman who gave him her best years, bore his children, sold her parents’ flat, and poured everything into their business.
Once, they had been happy. Or so it seemed. He had courted her beautifully, full of charm. After her father’s death, Eleanor was alone—her mother hadn’t survived the grief. Roman had been her rock then. Or pretended to be.
—Let’s leave, he had said. Start fresh somewhere else. I won’t let you down.
She hadn’t hesitated. Said yes. Married him. Had a son, then a daughter. Worked until maternity leave. The business was registered under his relatives—”safer that way.” Then everything crumbled.
Roman flourished like a man in a film: gym memberships, lunches out, business trips. Meanwhile, Eleanor was left at the stove, sleepless nights, heart sinking each time he didn’t come home. His mother only made it worse:
—Have you looked at yourself? What are you next to my son? He deserves better.
After the divorce, Eleanor went to her aunt’s. With the children. With the pain. With nothing. But she didn’t give up. Together with her aunt, they started a small haulage service. Two lorries. One dispatcher. Two years later, it became a chain. Eleanor rebuilt her life.
And Roman fell apart.
Lydia left him almost immediately. Left him with the child and court debts. His uncle cut ties with the business. The house went to the bank. He lived in a rented room. Took odd jobs. Had nothing left.
Then one day—an interview. He needed work as a driver. Sent his CV. Walked into the office. And saw *her*.
Eleanor. In a tailored suit, confident stride, clear-eyed.
—You?— He swallowed. —How… how are you here?
—I work here.
—I need a job. Hire me. For old times’ sake.
—We don’t hire men who abandon their children.— Her voice was calm. No bitterness. —Deadbeat dads aren’t our style.
—I’ll make it right… I just— His gaze dropped.
—No, Roman. You didn’t *just* fall. You tore it all down. With your own hands. And I built it all back—without you.
A tall young man knocked at the door—her son. Confident, steady, with her same clear gaze.
—Mum, we’re due at the meeting?
—Yes, love.
And Roman stood there, a stranger. Because that’s what he was. He had lost. Lost everything. Not even respect remained. Just the emptiness he had dug for himself.
