The Art of Living Well

A/N - Hello all! Well, here we go. I'm throwing my hat into the ring regarding a story in this category. I've been reading a lot of stories in this category lately and, I have to say, this will likely be the toughest category I've submitted regarding the eventual score and any feedback I receive.

I think there are two camps here in this category regarding this type of story. This definitely isn't a reconciliation story but nor does the spouse cheated on 'burn the bitch', so to speak. Having read quite a few stories, though entertaining, a lot of them are not entirely realistic. Whether mine is realistic will be entirely your opinion, of course! And though I have zero tolerance for cheating, which is why reconciliation is out, I'm also left thinking if taking revenge, as per some of the stories here, is ththe right thing to do? Should there be an eye for an eye, or do two wrongs make a right?

Most stories seem to be set in the United States, as I guess the majority of authors are from there, so most divorce laws differ due to the state it's set in, from what I can figure out. For instance, it seems most are no fault, but some still allow divorces based on adultery. As I set most stories in my homeland of Australia, things are a little different here regarding divorce laws and the process of how it all works. In addition to that, though this will start as 'Loving Wives', it will end up being as more of a 'Romance', but I wanted to give writing a story in this category a go. Whether it's a success or not is up to the reader

As always, the usual caveats. I write all my stories using Word. Spelling is generally on point. Grammar sometimes a little ropey. I do my own editing so I won't catch every little typo. Sometimes, I type so fast, I even put the wrong word down and, no matter how many times I review it, I still miss it! Never claimed to be perfect.

Comments and feedback appreciated.

*****

You never think it's going to happen to you. Friends go through the pain of divorce for whatever reason. But because you trust and love your partner, you never believe that you'll end up being another statistic, another failed marriage. But when you look at the divorce statistics, particularly in the modern age, it actually leaves me wondering why people bother getting married at all. 'Til Death Do Us Part' certainly rings hollow, it's meaning lost over the decades.

I should have recognised the signs, I guess, but not due to anything I read online, whether it was stories, articles or simply being more observant. When you're in love with someone, you generally have a blinkered, rose-tinted view of the world. When you're married, have kids, a home, and built a life together, the idea that you'd grow old together is what gives you peace of mind.

But I guess the signs were there, and I'd seen them before.

I grew up in what they eventually called 'a broken home'. I thought my parents' marriage was strong when I was growing up. They certainly seemed to love and respect each other. My father worked hard for a living, a physically demanding job that took a lot out of him. But he loved his wife and family and sacrificed himself for what I guess you'd call 'the greater good'. My mother returned to work once my youngest sister was at school.

Being a kid, we had no real idea what was going on, but looking back, there were signs I'd soon recognise and that's when I figured it all out. She didn't start having an affair straight away. I was a teenager when it started, my brother around eighteen months younger, while my little sister was three years younger.

It started like so how many affairs start. First it was working late. Then it was business trips away. Showers as soon as she got home from an afternoon spent with her lover. Dressing far nicer than she ever did for our father. And, as this was before the time of smartphones, secret phone calls and my mother disappearing at strange times for her liaisons.

The only reason my father discovered the affair was that he walked in one them. I learned later that he was finishing work early, hoping to surprise my mother by taking her out for the afternoon, who told him she was taking half a day to get her hair done and do a little shopping. Instead, he arrived home to find her car in the driveway and a car he admitted to recognising beside it. He parked up the street and walked home, entering through the back door.

He strode into the bedroom to find his wife, my mother, being fucked by her boss. In the marital bed. My dad lost it completely and beat the shit out of him. His name was Jim Thompson, and he eventually crawled out of our house, battered, bruised and bleeding. Despite the age, my father was someone who'd raised his children to never hit a woman. But how he managed to keep a lid on his rage that afternoon, I still don't know. Even he can't explain it.

What my father quickly learned is that adultery meant absolutely nothing in a country where no fault divorces were the norm. Some people state that possession is nine-tenths of the law. My father tried to kick her out of the house, pack up her shit and send her off to her parents. Once they learned what she'd done, they wanted nothing to do with her. Her sister also refused to take her in. As the house was also in her name as well as my fathers, she refused to move.

My father was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he stayed, a divorce wouldn't be possible. A man and wife need to be separated for twelve months, that means living in separate locations, before a divorce can be obtained. More than once, my father tried to have my mother removed due to her adultery, but it wasn't a crime and she was within her rights to remain in the house.

Yeah, sometimes no fault divorces suck arse as there is a guilty party that caused the divorce when adultery is the reason, and for them walk out of a marriage without being 'punished' for breaking their vows does seem a little unfair.

My father eventually gave in, not willing to remain in the same house with a cheating wife. He found an apartment and moved out. He couldn't find a place large enough to take all three of us, so we were stuck living with my mother. I had figured out what was going on and let my mother know immediately what I thought about her. She tried to explain her reasons, but I told her that as soon as I could, I'd go live with my father. My younger brother and little sister were not informed so simply wondered why our father had left. I did my best to explain it without getting in the middle.

The only good thing my mother did during that year was that she never stopped our visits with our father. Those first couple of months, he was a broken man. He did his best to put on a happy face for his children, but even we could see that the smile was forced. Being the oldest, he sat me down one evening after my siblings had gone to bed and admitted we were the only reason he remained nearby, but he would fight for custody and try and get the house if possible.

It was a pipe dream though. Men were rarely given custody back then, and when it came to the divorce after twelve months of separation, it was required they attend court to sort out custody and other matters. As I was old enough to take the stand, I stated categorically I wanted to live with my father. But as my brother and sister were considered too young to make such a decision, though the judge would consider what they said, custody of all three of us was awarded to my mother. The only positive for my father is that alimony isn't a thing in Australia, though there is such a thing as 'spousal maintenance'. However, that is not always awarded, and as our mother made good money anyway, he only had to pay reasonable child support. Unlike what it seems to be like in the United States, child support in Australia is reasonable on the parent no longer in the household, so my father wouldn't be left destitute due to child support payments.

The next four years were difficult. I despised my mother by now and she knew it. Any man she tried to introduce as her new partner, I let him know my mother was a whore who'd cheated on her husband, forcing him out of the family home. More than once, I left her in floods of tears. By sixteen, we barely spoke and I was out of the house as often as possible, whether at school, working a part-time job or just not being there.

My father did get his life back on track after the divorce, eventually meeting a lovely woman named Naomi, a fellow divorcee. I supported their relationship and she soon grew to love his three children like her own. She had a daughter of her own, and we treated her like a sister. Despite his heartache, I was pleased my father found love again, though I knew he hesitated getting married again. Naomi seemed to realise so was happy to cohabitate, the pair eventually renting a house together and establishing a de facto relationship.

As soon as I hit eighteen and graduated high school, I moved out of home to live with my father. I hated leaving my siblings behind, the only reason I'd stayed until that age, but by that stage, my relationship with my mother was untenable. My last words to her were, I admit, incredibly cruel, but it was simply an explosion of all the negative thoughts I'd kept to myself since my father was forced out of home, simply due to not wanting to remain married to a cheating whore. Despite our relationship collapse, she still sobbed when I packed my car the day I left. I hugged my brother and sister, assuring them I'd be close by and not forget them, before I glared at my mother one final time.

My experience with my mother did make me wary when it came to dealing with women. I'd read a lot of articles about infidelity and I knew, at heart, I was a monogamous man and would expect the same from any partner. I did have a couple of girlfriends through high school, but once I was out working and making money, I started to date, hoping I'd find a woman worthy of my love and trust.

I met Kylie when I was twenty-one years old. She was a recent university graduate. I was working as an engineer while taking night classes, as although I enjoyed working with my hands, I hoped to work my way up the organisation into management. I met her at once of those corporate gigs, I was there representing the engineering company while she was working part-time as a sales representative for a supplying company. We hit it off immediately, and by the end of the day, I had her number in my phone with a promise to give her a call.

*****

"Hot date, Mark?" my roommate asked. He was one of my best mates from school and we'd agreed to live together so rent and bills were cheaper.

"Something like that, Dave."

"She that chick you met at the conference?"

"Yeah."

"Finally get the balls to call her?"

I glanced at him and smirked. "Fuck off, Dave. I just waited a couple of days to not appear over-eager. Trust me, she was rather excited on the phone when I did call her, and eager to meet up as soon as possible."

Applying a little aftershave, I thought I looked okay. Better than looking like a bum, anyway. Though I had a decent job, the money still wasn't that great, but I was comfortable enough. We'd agreed to meet at a bar in town and go from there. I usually didn't do dinner and drinks on the first couple of dates. Too many stories of women looking for a free meal, the man who paid never hearing from the woman again afterwards.

Walking into the bar after parking up my car, she was sat on a stool, and the first thing I noticed was the short skirt and her long legs. She was already sipping at a drink, meeting my eyes across the room. When her eyes lit up and she smiled, I think my heart started to beat a little faster. She had gorgeous blonde hair down to her shoulders, hazel eyes that sparkled in the low light, a gorgeous little nose and a pair of lips that were immediately kissable. She was rather slim with a small bust, though I'd noticed her pert little butt when we'd chatted at the conference.

Over a couple of drinks, we slowly got to know each other. Her role at the corporate gig had been temporary, admitting she'd only been hired due to having a pretty face so it would attract the men in her direction. She laughed, admitting it was true, but it left her feeling like a piece of meat. "And so many married men were hitting on me," she added, "It was disgusting."

I saw her point. I know my own mother cheated, but both sexes were just as bad when it came to cheating. Due to my own curiosity, I went looking online for statistics and the fact so many men and women admitted to extramarital affairs left my jaw dropped in utter shock. What made it worse is that, according to plenty of articles based in Australia, we were notorious for being a bunch of cheating scumbags.

"You were the perfect gentleman though, Mark," she added, taking my hand in hers, "You didn't try and check out my tiny tits or arse. You met my eyes the entire time and remained entirely professional. At least until you asked for my number. You were the only genuine person there. You'd better be single though."

I placed a hand on my heart, raising my other hand. "I swear I'm single. Ask any of my friends."

She smiled and gripped my hand again. "Good, because I've got a good feeling about you. I've been hurt before."

We agreed to take things slow. We met for coffee or drinks for the first couple of weeks. It was the end of a third night for drinks that we kissed for the first time. By then, she knew about my parents' relationship. She hugged me tightly, and for some reason, it just made me feel better about things. When we kissed, I just knew it was right. Meeting her eyes, I was left feeling she was thinking the same thing.

Drinks turned into dinner. Within a week, she was back at the apartment I shared with Dave. He had a girlfriend of his own, and spent most of his time at her place, so thankfully he wasn't there. After sharing a final drink together, I took her by the hand and we made love for the first time. She was utterly gorgeous without anything on. Like any woman, she had some insecurities, particularly about her small chest. I assured her that her breasts were perfect, she had a fantastic body, and I just wanted to bite her arse constantly.

Within a month, she confessed her love for me, I returned those feelings, and things took off from there. As soon as she found a permanent job, we discussed serious matters such as living together, buying a house, marriage and then kids. By this stage, though what happened to my father lingered in my mind, Kylie had well and truly won my heart and that was all that mattered. She was a delight to be around, and she admitted to wanting to be a wife and mother above anything.

Before getting married, we agreed to buy a house together. Thankfully, this was before the housing boom that swept across Australia, particularly in Sydney. However, due to her lack of employment, and a poor credit history, which she had told me about, she couldn't co-sign a mortgage. I couldn't afford one on my own, or no bank would offer me one by myself, so my father offered to co-sign so his wage would complement my own.

I had no idea how much that would save my arse in the future, but for the moment, Kylie was ever so thankful to him, and she nearly wept when he told her that she was simply another daughter. Her parents absolutely loved me at the same time, so when I popped the question only three months after moving into our new home, everyone was delighted when we announced our engagement and the date of our wedding.

Marrying Kylie was the best day of my life up to that point. I was marrying the woman I considered my soulmate, and she often told me that I was hers in return. Walking down the aisle towards me, I was probably grinning like a fool. She started to giggle when I took her hand as we were both overjoyed to finally commit ourselves to each other. It was no church wedding, taking place in a park, where a marquee tent was sitting nearby where the reception could take place.

Our honeymoon was a week on an island in the Pacific. Sun, sea, sand and endless sex. Little wonder we figured out that's when she fell pregnant with our first child. She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl nine months after our honeymoon, and within six months of giving birth, she was ready for another child. Eighteen months later, she gave birth to our son.

Three months later, we agreed that two was enough. We both had what we wanted. To my surprise, she didn't want me to get the snip, just in case we changed our minds, and getting her tubes tied was out too. She simply agreed to go back on birth control, as it had never bothered her before, and life carried on as normal. She was a housewife and mother until both children were at school. Once our son was at school, she resumed employment, though kept her hours to school times until both our children were in secondary school. Only then did she return to complete full-time employment.

By the time we both hit forty-five, I was now a regional manager for a national engineering chain. I did travel every so often but rarely more than one night away from home. Kylie was established in her career in real estate, managing her own office though would occasional report to head office in the CBD. Our daughter, Charlotte, had moved out of home to live with her boyfriend. He was a lovely young man who was already devoted to her. I assumed wedding bells loomed on the horizon. Our son, Steven, was still at university, living in a sharehouse close to campus. I was aware of his different sexual interests but Kylie and I supported him no matter his choices in life.

We'd been married over twenty years by now. I thought we were still in love with each other as the day we'd exchanged vows. My eyes had never been turned. Hand on heart, I might look at another woman but never considered doing anything as I'd given my heart to Kylie and I didn't want to destroy that trust.

But I couldn't help it. What happened to my father always lingered. I should have known better. I should have seen the signs. But when I finally realised the truth, I knew I'd have to take certain steps to prepare myself for the inevitable.

You just never think it's going to happen to you.

*****

"You think she's cheating on you?" Dave asked, hearing the surprise in his tone, "Mate, she loves you to death. What on earth..."

"I've been blind, Dave. I thought once Steve left the house, our relationship would return to what it was before. And for a few months, she couldn't get enough of me. Honestly fucked me into a coma more than once and I left her a sweaty, red faced mess after making her cum nearly all night. But I'm starting to see similar behaviour to the shit my mother was pulling on my father."

Just thinking about that whore still caused my blood to boil. I'd barely seen her in the past twenty years. She had attended my wedding and that was only due to my father intervening. He'd married Naomi by then and had well and truly moved on. He told me to be the better man and invite her. I didn't have to involve her, but not inviting her would make me look like the bad guy. I grit my teeth and sent her an invitation. Other than that, apart from updates about grandchildren, who she rarely had the chance to visit, I'd had nothing to do with her. Kylie knew the story and never pushed for any sort of relationship with her either.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Get any evidence I can, and if she is cheating on me, I simply walk away from her."

"How will you do that?"

"I have ways and means. She'd been more secretive than normal the past few months. I should have noticed earlier. My own stupid fault, but that's what I get for trusting her. Once I realised what was going on, I guess it was too late to stop it, so I've been preparing myself for the inevitable. I have a meeting on Monday morning with a private investigator. All I want to know is if she'd doing the dirty. I don't need to see photos and video, though anything that will help my case..."