My Husband Left Me for His Yoga Instructor Who Helped Him ‘Heal His Inner Child’—Four Years Later, I Saw Them Again and Almost Felt Sorry for Him

“Hey… Julia,” he said, almost tentative. “You look good. How are you?”

“Fine,” I said — nothing more, nothing less. I wasn’t about to offer him a soft place to land.

He nodded and swallowed hard. His eyes flicked toward the floor, then back to me.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well,” I said. “It’s a grocery store, Mark. Not some silent retreat that’s invite only.”

He gave a weak laugh and adjusted the toddler on his hip. The toddler had the same hazel eyes my children did.

“Yeah, right. Of course.”

The silence between us stretched and swelled, heavy with everything we’d never said out loud. Finally, he spoke.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I didn’t respond. I let the quiet hang between us like fog. If he wanted to feel better, he could go journal about it.
“I thought I was doing the right thing. I was trying to find myself, Jules. I was trying to fix something inside me.”

“Instead, you found three kids under three,” I said.

He winced, the truth landing hard.

“Amber’s different now. It’s not what I thought.”

I didn’t say it, but I wanted to: Neither were you.

“I miss what we had,” he said, softer this time. “I was stupid. I didn’t see how good I had it.”

That used to be the sentence I played in my head. I imagined it late at night while lying alone in our bed, his voice breaking, his eyes full of regret. I used to think hearing those words would fix something in me.

That maybe I’d finally feel like I’d won.

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