She Left Us for a Rich Man… And Then I Saw Her at the Supermarket.

Sometimes, life cuts through your heart like a blade. It burns. It aches. And you ask yourself — why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this?

I lived with Olga for ten years. We met as students in Salamanca, then moved together to Madrid, where our adult life began. Our two daughters were born: Inés and Carmen, just a year apart. I worked at a construction company, had a steady salary. We didn’t live in luxury, but we had enough: twice a year we took family vacations, rented a spacious apartment, could afford a nanny for the girls, and treated ourselves to little luxuries — new dresses, toys, the occasional dinner out.

Olga worked from home, writing and managing some online projects. I was always involved: did the dishes, took the girls for walks, helped with crafts and educational games.

I thought we were fine. But one day, she simply said:

— I’m leaving.

I didn’t understand at first. I thought she meant a trip, a course, something temporary. But then she said:

— I’ve found myself. I want something more. Something bigger.

And she didn’t just leave me. She left our daughters too. She abandoned Carmen and Inés — five and four years old — with me. Without a trace of regret. No tears. A week later, I saw her Instagram profile: a diamond ring, a yacht in the Mediterranean, champagne in a luxury suite, designer dresses, and the caption: “my new life starts here.”

I couldn’t believe it. She chose that? The glamour, the luxury… and not even one call to her daughters?

The hardest part was hearing the girls ask every day:

— Daddy, is Mommy coming back?

And I didn’t know what to say. How do you explain to a child that their mother didn’t just leave — she chose wealth over their tiny little hands?

Two years passed. I managed. It was hard — extremely hard. Some nights I felt like I had nothing left. Sometimes I had to take time off work when one of the girls got sick. But we made it. Inés started school, Carmen went to preschool. We became a team. I was their rock, and they were my reason to keep going.

Then, one ordinary afternoon, I went to the neighborhood supermarket for milk and bread. I was standing at the checkout line — and froze. Right there in front of me… was her. Olga.

She was no longer the dazzling woman from Instagram. In front of me stood a worn-down woman in a tattered coat, blank stare, trembling hands. Her wallet held only loose coins. In her basket: bread, a pack of pasta, and cheap sausages.

Our eyes met. She went pale, as if she’d seen a ghost.

— It’s you… — she whispered.

I stayed silent. In that moment, I didn’t know what I felt more strongly — anger, bitterness, or emptiness.

— How are the girls? — her voice trembled.

I clenched my fists.

— They’re fine. Because they have me.

She looked away. Her lips shook.

— I… I’d like to see them.

— After two years? — I felt the rage boil inside me. — Did you ever worry about them? Did you even send a postcard?

She lowered her head.

— I made a mistake…

I let out a bitter laugh:

— A mistake is forgetting an umbrella on a rainy day. You abandoned your daughters for a luxury lifestyle. Did you really think yachts and dresses would drown out your conscience?

— He left me… — she whispered. — When he realized I was no longer useful. I lost everything. No home, no money. I even gave up legal rights to the girls.

I looked at her hands — the ring was gone.

— And the girls? Were they just a temporary inconvenience?

— No… — she began to cry. — I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. But I beg you… let me see them.

I took a deep breath. The woman in front of me was no longer the one who walked out of our house with her head high. She was a broken person. A hollow shell of someone who once swore to love us forever.

— They don’t remember you, Olga. It’s been a long time since they stopped asking about you. They learned to live without you.

— I don’t want anything… Just to see them. Hear their voices…

I turned away. My heart clenched with pain. I didn’t know if I could ever forgive her.

But I knew one thing: Inés and Carmen are everything to me. And no one has the right to hurt them again.

— I’ll think about it, — I said, and walked away.

She stayed there — in the middle of the supermarket, surrounded by strangers, tears in her eyes, and a void in her soul.

I don’t know how this story ends. Maybe one day I’ll let her speak to the girls. But I will never let them feel abandoned again.