My husband decided to keep the kids after the divorce. So let him…

Alejandro and I were married for over a decade. We went through everything — joyful moments, disagreements — but never betrayal. We have two children: our eldest son and a little girl who just turned three. I truly believed we were a strong, unbreakable family. Just staying together that long without hurting each other already felt like a victory.

Until, like lightning on a clear day, I found out he had a lover. It was all so vulgar, so disgusting. He betrayed me. He crushed my love, my trust, my dreams — as if they meant nothing.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t make a scene. I simply asked for a divorce. Staying by his side had become impossible.

At first, Alejandro resisted. He begged, said it was a mistake, that we could recover. But my decision was made. A broken heart doesn’t just heal. Then he said: — Fine. Let’s get divorced. But the kids stay with me.

I was stunned. He was serious. He claimed he could give our children a stable future, while I couldn’t even support myself.

His words knocked the air out of me. But later, once my thoughts settled, I wondered: what if he was right? He had inherited an apartment in Madrid from his mother, had a good job in a company in Valencia, and owned a car. I, after years dedicated to raising our kids, had only been in a precarious job for six months, renting a small studio in Getafe with unpaid electricity bills. I wasn’t in a position to care for two kids on my own. I didn’t want to drag them into poverty. With him, they’d have food, a roof over their heads, clothes, and safety.

I didn’t give up — I made a choice for them. We went to court. The divorce was quick, without drama. He gave up child support, saying he could handle it himself. I promised to help however I could. Our son, Adrián, cried every night. Little Lucía, at first, asked why mommy didn’t sleep at home anymore. On weekends, I picked them up and filled our time with hugs, play, and all the love I could give.

In the beginning, Alejandro called me constantly: — How do I make the baby food? — They’re not sleeping… — I’m exhausted!

Then the calls started to decrease. Three months later, they had almost stopped. Meanwhile, I was promoted at my job in Alcobendas and managed to save enough to move into a bigger apartment.

Two months later, he called with a new decision: he had changed his mind. The kids were getting in the way of his new routine, and he was burned out. He asked me to take them back. — I didn’t sign up for this — he said.

I listened in disbelief. The same man who promised to take full responsibility, who swore he’d give them everything, now wanted to return them like old furniture? And on top of that, he accused me of “abandoning” them, of being a bad mother.

But I’m not. I just refused to follow the path of so many women who destroy their health trying to meet everyone else’s expectations.

He betrayed me first. He broke the family. Why should I carry the burden alone? I’m no hero. I’m an ordinary woman. And our children have a father. Let him do his part.

I love them more than anything. But I made a cold, calculated decision. Maybe some will judge me. I don’t regret it. I didn’t abandon them. I gave them stability. Time will tell who was right.