It should have been the perfect summer day as we enjoyed the sunshine in the conservatory, but something wasn’t right. My husband, Nick*, had gone quiet and was staring out across the garden. I tried to get him to open up. Was he ill? Worried about work? Finally he turned to face me and said he didn’t love me any more. I felt numb, as if the ground beneath my feet had fallen away. It was 2017, I was 58 and we had been married for 27 years. He was my world, my best friend and a fabulous father to our sons. He was also the man I had forgiven for a series of affairs, but this time he was leaving me for good.
‘I COULDN’T HIDE A THIRD AFFAIR
