I fell in love at forty, and he turned my life upside down… yet I can’t let him go.
I’m forty, and truly in love. Not with a peer or a man with a steady career and experience. No, I have fallen for a guy fifteen years younger. And instead of happiness, I ended up with betrayal, humiliation, and heartbreak. Yet, oh, how I still love him…
Before meeting Ethan, I was what many would call a successful woman. I held a high-ranking position, had a steady salary, and owned a lovely flat in London. My daughter, Amelia, from my first marriage, was already studying in a prestigious school. I had divorced my husband over conflicting ambitions—he wanted to move to Spain for work, but I had just been promoted and didn’t want to sacrifice my career. We parted amicably without any drama. I was content: freedom, independence, everything under control. Yet the years kept passing. I had a few fleeting romances, but nothing serious. Five years flew by, and I didn’t even notice the mature woman with tired eyes staring back at me in the mirror.
Then, at a mutual friend’s birthday party, I saw him. Ethan. Tall, athletic, with a smile that took my breath away. He, too, had come alone. We flirted all evening, and I—I’m still not sure what came over me—ended up inviting him over for the weekend. My daughter was abroad with her father. We were alone. Everything happened. And it happened more than once. He began visiting more frequently, either at my place or at hotels. Ethan lived with his mother and sister—strange, but it felt like there was a future. A few months later, he moved in with me. We started living together.
I lost my mind. I bought him expensive watches, clothes, gadgets. I tried to please him in every way, just to keep him. He was young, handsome, desirable. And I felt my age more keenly than ever. His sister, Emma, often visited us. Sweet and attentive, she got along well with Amelia. We even took her to the seaside. I never suspected a thing. Emma seemed like she could be my own little sister.
Then one day, I decided to surprise him. I took a day off without telling Ethan and quietly came home. I heard… laughter. A man’s and a woman’s. I approached the bedroom and saw them. Ethan and Emma. Naked. In my bed. Emma wasn’t his sister. She was an ex—or maybe not so ex. I don’t know. I just froze. Later he said he loved me, that it was over with her. But I saw it all! He pleaded for forgiveness, claimed she was unwell and had threatened to harm herself. That he couldn’t break it off with her immediately. That he loved only me.
Three months have passed. He still lives with me. He cleans, cooks, takes care of things. But I can’t believe him. I can’t kick him out—my heart won’t let me. But I can’t trust him anymore either. I’m living in a hell of doubt. I look at my phone, and in every message from him, I see Emma’s shadow. I don’t know how to move on. Could you let go of someone you love so deeply, even knowing they betrayed you?
