**THE SECOND WIFE**
I was certain my ex-husband would soon flee from this woman.
Ella was not from his worldtactless, erratic, a reckless adventurer. Six years older than Victor, she carried herself with an air of mystery, always impeccably dressed. But the moment she spoke, the illusion shattered. Victor, my ex, was her oppositegentle, steady, kind. Why did we divorce, then, if he was so perfect? My fault entirely. I admit it.
After our split, Victor dove headfirst into chaos. First, he toyed with a fling with Anastasia, a colleague who had long pined for him. She was desperate for a husband, her young son needing a father, and she poured herself into the rolecooking, ironing his shirts to perfection, smothering him in devotion. But Victor didnt want a mother; he wanted a wife. The affair burned out in three months.
Then my best friend, Olivia, swooped in. Shed always fancied him, and once our marriage crumbled, she became his confidante, soaking up his tears. For a year, he drifted between her flat and the hollow shell of our old home, pouring his savings into her lap. A wedding seemed inevitable.
Until Ella appeared.
They met through mutual friends who insisted they were perfectboth single, both with children. When Victor confessed about Olivia, Ella scoffed. *”A fiancée isnt a wife. She can be un-fiancéed!”* Olivia was shoved aside. Ella dragged Victor to the registry office, moved in with her daughter, Iris, and convinced Victors ageing mother to downsize to a one-bedroom flat*for her own good.* With the leftover money, Ella renovated, then claimed the flat as her own.
Trouble clung to Ella like a shadow. A stolen fur coat, cash shortages at work, clashes with wealthy customersher excuses piled up until Victor paid off every debt. The moment he did, her boss fired her. Victor suggested she stay home. *”Cheaper this way,”* he reasoned. But Ella had no interest in housewifery. Instead, she lounged in cafés, pampered herself at spas, shopped endlessly. Victor came home to fry eggs alone*the wife out feasting, the husband gnawing bones.*
Every summer, they toured Europe. Victor loved lavishly, foolishly.
Years passed.
At twenty, Iris came home pregnantno father in sight. Ella took charge of the baby while Iris paraded a string of “daddies” through the house. Victor seethed until Ella demanded he buy Iris a flat*a three-bed, no lessso shed settle down.* He did. A decent man eventually stayed, loving both Iris and the boy, but Ella sneered. *”Hes poor.”* Her whining drove him away. Now Victor supports the grandson, too.
When our daughter turned thirty, she wanted the fractured family together. Ella refused to let Victor go alone. Over wine, Ella bragged about the men she *really* preferredbrutes, rebels, anyone but sweet Victor. Yet he remained her golden goose. *”Pout, and hed crawl through fire for me. Life with him? A bloody fairytale.”*
Bored of leisure, she meddled in Victors business. Now hes begging my son-in-law for loans.
Thats their love story.
Twenty years married. Still together.
I dont understand.
