I met my husband in high school. He was my first love. We were in our final year, preparing for our university visits and talking about the future.

We have settled the custody issue.

I didn't say "it's okay." Because it wasn't okay.

But I said, "Thank you for telling me."

We hired a lawyer.

The divorce was difficult, and I hated that part. I didn't want to be her enemy.

I simply couldn't be his wife anymore.

But I am building something new.

We have settled the issues of custody, money and schedules.

Our son knows the children's version of the story.

"Dad made a big mistake a long time ago," I told him. "He lied. Lying breaks trust. Adults make mistakes too."

I still cry sometimes.

I still miss the life I thought I had.

I don't regret having loved it.

But I'm building something new. I have a job. A small apartment. A strange and awkward truce with my parents, which we are gradually transforming into something real.

I don't regret having loved him. I regret that he didn't trust me by telling me the truth.

If anyone is interested in the lesson to be learned from all this, here is mine:

Choosing love is courageous. But choosing the truth? That's how you survive.