So he has found an apartment and put a deposit on it. He signs the contract in a week and is actually excited. Its really happening. My worst fear. He would actually move out of our home, take his kids, and be gone from my life.
I was gutted once again. Crashing down, begging, pleading. Embarrassing myself as I tried to grasp on to what hope was left to get back on track. My support walls crumbing, my life plummeting with gut wrenching fortitude. Then he was away for work for days. I was left in our home - what was to be no more - empty house, empty heart, longing to talk to someone and especially him. not knowing. It wasn't signed. There was hope he wouldn't surely. But not knowing whether he would.
I consult my trusty psychic. She would know... she delivers the news I don't want to hear. He is moving out. There will be regrets but he is on a mission. He is damaged he is not good for me blah blah. I will be OK, my child will be fine. Blah blah. Don't do anything I will regret. He just needs space. He might well come back. But she also said I will get the apartment that I applied for. Which, the next day, I find out I didn't. So I was left confused and bewildered.
He returns home and I try not to talk about it. I hope so much with all my heart that he choses not to sign the contract. Like a child waiting for Christmas, I feel that eager, yet, I am aware that the impact of him actually signing was going to be unfathomable. I start to talk to people in terms of - 'what happens next tuesday'. Im going to be OK until next tuesday. When I find out. Whether it is true that he doesn't love me, can't bear to be with me and won't know our child. People look a bit odd. Of course he will move, both my close friend and my mother say, almost instantly. But I am clinging to hope and I don't want to hear that. So I don't.
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