The trigger was a picture of a pair of earrings: red studs shaped like miniature chili peppers on his iPhone.
It was the last day of our ten-day trip to Mexico, six months after our fairytale wedding. I suggested we swap phones so we could look at each other’s photos of our vacation.
“Why do you have a picture of earrings?” I asked, to which my partner of nine years replied, “Oh, a friend from work has the same ones.” I took a photo to send to her.”
The next day I called my best friend and told her about the chili pepper earrings. Should I be worried?
“If this was someone else’s partner I would be worried; “But this is your husband,” she said.
She was right. My partner was born a husband. He was the type of man who would spend all day perfecting my favorite pasta dish and have it ready as soon as I walked in the door from work. He sacrificed his evenings to teach me to play tennis and built me my very own walk-in closet.
In the months since my surprise breakup, I’ve learned that my situation isn’t as rare as I thought
In May 2022, he sobbed during our wedding ceremony and told me he wished I saw myself the way he saw me: beautiful, smart, and caring. We were planning a loft conversion in the house we owned together and had stopped using contraceptives. He was in it for the long haul.
And yet, less than a fortnight after we returned from Mexico, he announced that he wasn’t sure he wanted to marry me. “Things have been a little bad between us lately,” he said one Thursday evening. For me that was news.
I thought about the earrings and replied, “You’ll think I’m crazy, but is there anyone else?”
He remained silent. No rejection. I could feel my legs shaking. I felt dizzy and lightheaded.
My heart was pounding so hard I was afraid it would explode out of my chest. I ran to the toilet and vomited.
‘I’m really sorry. “Nothing happened,” he assured me.
For a good 15 seconds I convinced myself that this was a hyper-realistic nightmare. This was the only way this situation could be feasible.
I thought about our wedding and the subsequent phone calls from family and friends telling us it was the most beautiful and heartfelt ceremony they had ever experienced.
In May 2022, he sobbed during our wedding ceremony and told me he wished I saw myself the way he saw me: beautiful, smart, and caring
I thought about the caption on his Instagram post of our wedding pictures. “Best day of my life,” he wrote.
Half an hour ago my future was secure: my husband, my dog, a house in the suburbs and hopefully two children. Now I was in danger of losing everything.
“But…we’re married,” I said.
Be silent.
I asked if it was the friend from work with the chili pepper earrings. Again no answer. And then an embarrassed nod.
After a while he mumbled that he had been bothered lately by the thought of how boring our lives were. He reassured me again that nothing had happened to her, but the situation had him wondering, “Is this it?”
We had an emotional connection that I always believed would stand the test of time
“Yes, that’s called marriage,” I replied. And marital domesticity wasn’t exactly a turning point for our relationship. When he proposed in 2019, we had already been living together for almost four years – and owned an apartment.
With combined creative energy, we turned our two-bedroom box into a home. In fact, we both liked it so much that when he asked for my hand in marriage, he knelt on one knee next to my dressing table during my evening skincare routine.
“We love our home together. So where better to ask you than here?” he had said.
Nothing was more fun for us than throwing over-the-top dinner parties for anyone interested and buying cleaning products in bulk.
And it wasn’t just our “life” together. We had an emotional connection that I always believed would stand the test of time.
Half an hour ago my future was secure: my husband, my dog, a house in the suburbs and hopefully two children. Now I was in danger of losing everything
He had supported me through the eating disorder I suffered from in my twenties. I often felt like we were a hive mind and shared the same mindset on most important topics – especially our friends’ choice of romantic partners.
We spent Sunday afternoon happily walking or relaxing on the sofa. Had he been living a lie?
After crying for an hour, he apologized. He was confused. He wanted us to do therapy. But he loved me and wanted to be my husband. We hugged each other. I cried some more and lay awake that night staring at the lamp. When I got home from work the next evening, I found him leaning against the kitchen counter next to half a bottle of red wine.
“I was thinking about our relationship and…” he began before I had even closed the door.
This was a completely different man than the one I married. He was cheeky, arrogant and a bit drunk.
He continued to analyze our relationship – as he saw it. The times I had wronged him; refused him attention; my relentless “obsession” with work. The “spark” we had lost.
In hindsight, the pandemic may have changed the course of our relationship; It highlighted the differences in our working lives.
He had decided he didn’t want to try. It was over for him. I asked him if he was really ready to throw our lives away and pointed to the fancy living room we had decorated together.
“Eve, we can’t stay together for some reason,” he said.
It was the start of a six-month journey of separation – and eventual divorce – that I never thought would happen to me.
But in the months since my surprise breakup, I’ve learned that my situation isn’t as rare as I thought. Although the average length of marriage before a divorce is about eight years, divorce lawyers say the length of marriage is getting shorter.
Sandra Davis, a partner at Mishcon de Reya who specializes in family law, has noticed a related trend: “I’ve seen a lot of couples who live together for many, many years.” Everyone thinks they’re rock solid, but then they get married and suddenly it’s over .”
Why? “For some, the reality of permanence is frightening,” she says.
In 2020, as deputy health editor of The Mail on Sunday, my specialist topic was suddenly relevant
“For others, the relationship may already be falling apart, but the couple is entangled in the fairytale of wedding planning.” When real life begins again, the cracks are still there.
“Covid lockdowns have had a huge impact on couples,” she adds.
In hindsight, the pandemic may have changed the course of our relationship. It highlighted the differences in our working lives.
We had always taken opposite approaches to work. Writing is a part of me. I am very motivated and am constantly chasing the next project. For him, work wasn’t that important to his identity.
“Instead, he found fulfillment in extracurricular activities such as tennis and cycling.”
In 2020, as deputy health editor of The Mail on Sunday, my specialist topic was suddenly relevant. My days were busier, longer and more exciting than ever before. And as an “essential worker,” I was able to work from my office for most of the lockdown. He worked in digital media and became increasingly distant from his job. While I was thrilled that my reports were part of living history, I found it difficult to understand his lack of passion for his job.
Shortly before the breakup, he got a new job. He was upset that I hadn’t paid enough attention to his promotion. In hindsight, he was probably right.
Additionally, our wedding was postponed three times during the pandemic. For 18 months, our conversations were hijacked by color schemes, bachelorette parties, table plans and playlists. If we didn’t have to discuss our upcoming wedding, would we have had anything to discuss?
In May of this year, seven months after the first breakup, I decided to step out of the divorce closet on Instagram—and was inundated with messages from strangers who felt similarly blindsided. Friends of friends contacted me and told me that something similar had happened to a cousin, a friend, or an aunt.
Everyone had been married for a year or two, but together for much longer. In every story, it was the man who pulled the plug.
Overall, women are more than 20 percent more likely to file for divorce than men. But it’s generally a softer landing, experts say.
“Women tend to think about it for a long time, and their partner will have a sense of what’s coming. Maybe they’ll suggest therapy or try to talk through problems,” says Davis.
“But in men it tends to come on much more suddenly.”
The night my husband disclosed the separation, I suggested that he leave the house to give me space
Women in similar positions told me that their partner was so guilt-ridden that he gave them everything they wanted financially. But not in my case.
The night my husband disclosed the separation, I suggested that he leave the house to give me space. His reaction was uncharacteristic: he refused. “I can’t go anywhere,” he said. “You can’t just throw me out on the street.”
He said I should go instead and stay with my mother, who lived a 15-minute drive away. Or, he said, we could both stay in our shared home but “avoid each other.”
No thanks, I told him.
After staying in a hotel for just one night, he returned to our house and didn’t leave the house. So I packed a suitcase and moved into my mother’s apartment when I was 31.
But his atypical behavior didn’t end there. A month later, when we put our house on the market, we discussed splitting the proceeds of the sale. When we bought the house 18 months ago, my widowed mother had raided her savings to give us a substantial amount. Therefore, after the separation, I assumed that my mother’s investment would go back to her if the house was sold at a profit. I was wrong.
Although the average length of marriage before a divorce is about eight years, divorce lawyers say the length of marriage is getting shorter
Like many couples, my husband handled the lion’s share of our finances. I transferred money to him for bills, mortgage payments, and household expenses – and he took care of it. The same was true when we bought our house. My mother’s money went into his bank account.
This meant that when we separated he claimed the money hadn’t been invested in the house after all, but had been spent on council tax and bathroom renovations.
I couldn’t do anything about it. Somehow he had discovered that only a quarter of my mother’s money was left.
A few weeks later he asked for the engagement ring back.
It was around this time that I realized how naive I was about marriage. The moment you legally commit yourself to another person, all assets – savings, pensions, house – are in a 50:50 ratio. And if everything goes wrong, there’s little you can do to get back what you invested.
You could ask a lawyer for help, but they charge an average of £200 an hour – and it’s unlikely to be what you want.
Overall, women are more than 20 percent more likely to file for divorce than men (stock image)
Rings are considered a gift – and there is no legal obligation to return them. So I kept it.
In June I returned to the house to pack my former life into cardboard boxes while my ex was away. I explored the empty rooms and remembered choosing colors together and teaching our little dog to get in and out of the cat flap (he has a new home with my ex’s parents).
I remembered the first time we entered the house and immediately agreed that it was the place where we would raise our children. I thought about the plans we had to grow tomatoes in the garden; converting the attic into my home office.
But then I fell back to earth. On the kitchen counter were a bunch of presents he had given me for various birthdays, with post-its next to them saying which ones he took with him.
I sobbed, packed my things as quickly as I could and left.
The next – and final – time I returned to the house, I left him a letter on his pillow. He had broken my heart, but I still cared deeply for him and I wanted him to know it. I couldn’t bear that our ending was acrimonious.
I never got an answer.
In the days immediately following the breakup, one thought haunted me: “How am I going to cope on my own?”
I had transitioned from staying at home to living with him when I was 23 years old. I had never worried about bills, rent or mortgage. I thought I was incapable without him.
In fact, I’ve spent the last eight months trying to prove myself wrong.
In October, I moved to New York City to lead the Chron’s Americas health and wellness content and launch a fresh start. I’m not afraid to start over in a new place all alone. At this point I’m pretty confident that I can get through anything.
A few weeks ago, he sent me an email with his new address so I could add it to our consent form — a form that protects you from a partner asking you for money in the future.
He lives in a one-bedroom flat in a part of East London that he has never been interested in and where, as far as I know, he has no friends or family. After some searching I found the apartment on Rightmove and stared at the screen sobbing.
Despite everything, all I could think was, “I really hope he’s not lonely.”