I fell in love with someone else, but I have a child and a terrible truth I’m afraid to reveal…
When I was just twenty-six, I thought my life was set. I had been living with a man for three years and had a little son—a playful, mischievous toddler who had just turned two. We weren’t married, but we lived like a family—sharing a home, a bed, and the same daily challenges. I dreamed of having another child, of a quiet happiness filled with children’s laughter and the smell of pancakes filling the kitchen each morning. But life doesn’t always follow the script you write…
A few months after our son was born, I found out I was pregnant again. It was an accidental discovery, but despite my fear, I was happy—surely, it was a blessing! However, my joy was short-lived. After my first C-section, the new pregnancy was deemed dangerous. The doctors didn’t mince their words—they told me I might not survive the birth. One obstetrician, the bluntest of them all, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “You could keep the child, but you risk not coming home.” So, I chose to have an abortion.
After the procedure, it took me a long time to recover—not so much physically as emotionally. Everything inside felt burnt out. I received no sympathy or support from my child’s father. He didn’t even ask me a single question. He simply said, “Well, if that’s the way it is, that’s the way it is,” as if we were discussing the purchase of a new fridge rather than a matter of life and death. That was when I realized: I was alone in this pain. Completely alone.
In the evenings, I started visiting chat rooms. Not for flirting—I just wanted to distract myself, to feel alive and wanted, even if just a little. Initially, it was empty conversations, routine compliments, crude innuendos—everything that made me want to log out immediately. But one night, around midnight, he wrote to me. A stranger. His words were warm and simple, without a trace of vulgarity, just honesty. I stayed in the chat longer than usual. He asked if I had Facebook. Initially, I refused—I didn’t want to bare my soul to a stranger. But he was persistent, not pushy or rushed—he simply convinced me that he was interested in my mind, not my body.
The following morning, I told him I was going on a trip and would pass through his town for half an hour. He was working but promised to meet me for at least five minutes. And he did. He got out of his car, smiled, and hugged me like an old friend. Then he left. No hints, no questions, no expectations. Just a look that lingered in my mind.
That evening, I found a message from him again. We started talking every day, as if we had known each other forever. A week later, we met again. This time, it wasn’t just a brief encounter. This time, we stayed together. Everything happened. And I thought: that’s it. As usual. A man gets what he wants and disappears. But the next day, he messaged me first. He suggested meeting again. He said he wanted to see me, just to be near me. We booked a hotel. I didn’t want to take him to the place I shared with my child’s father.
Two weeks have passed since then. And I feel like I’m falling in love. Really in love. My heart races when he calls. I smile like a schoolgirl when I hear his voice. I want to share everything with him: morning coffee, trips together, midnight talks. I feel like living again.
But now I’m scared. What if he truly falls for me? What if he wants to build a family with me one day and have a child? How can I tell him that I can’t be a mother again? That a doctor forbade me from having more children because it could be life-threatening?
I’m terrified to confess. I don’t want to ruin something that’s just begun. I don’t want to be left alone again. I’m not sure if he would understand. Men want heirs. They want the woman they love to give birth to a son or a daughter. And I can’t…
Sometimes I think—perhaps it’s better to leave now? Before it’s too late. Before I’m completely immersed in this feeling. But then he sends a voice message, simply saying, “Good morning, beautiful,” and all my resolve crumbles like a house of cards.
What should I do? How do I confess to the man I’m beginning to love that I can’t give him a child? Is it worth fearing the truth if my heart has already made its choice?
