My name is Emily Thompson, and I live in Winchester, where Hampshire stretches its quiet days along the River Itchen. I hesitated for a long time about writing this letter, but inside, everything screams with pain and confusion. I can no longer stay silent—I need to get this off my chest because my life has spiraled into chaos, and I don’t know how to escape this nightmare.
It all began when I—a mother to five-year-old daughter Olivia and wife to a husband who lives only for work—felt my world shifting. My husband, Henry, is a workaholic to the core, and he’s rarely home. My mum picks Olivia up from nursery, looks after her in the evenings, because both Henry and I return late. I work in a big corporation—a serious place that pays well, but I give it my all and often stay late to finish up tasks. Two months ago, I was sent on a four-day business trip with a colleague, James. I asked my mum to stay over and look after Olivia. She agreed, and I left with a light heart.
James and I traveled in the company car. The day was filled with meetings, and in the evening, we checked into a hotel. In the lift, he suddenly suggested we go down to the restaurant to have dinner together. I nodded—why not? The evening turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. We talked about everything and anything, and I learned he’s divorced, without kids, and buried in his work. His voice, his laughter—I suddenly felt free, alive, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. For the first time in years, beside a man I barely knew, I felt at ease. After dinner, we parted ways to our rooms, but something inside me was already trembling.
The next day was filled with work, and in the evening, dinner once again. We finished up early, and James suggested celebrating our success with a bottle of red wine. I love red wine, so I didn’t refuse. We ate, drank, laughed, and I saw where things were heading. My heart raced, but I decided to head to my room. He offered to walk me, and in the lift, it happened—his lips met mine, and we were engulfed by a wave of passion. We ended up in his room, and the night became a whirlwind I feared even to think about. The next night was even hotter, even wilder—I was drowning in it, forgetting about home, about my husband, about everything.
Upon returning to Winchester, I tried to erase it from my memory. I threw myself into work, avoided James, but a few weeks later, life hit me hard: I was pregnant. The world spun, and I was in shock, horrified, yet I knew—it was his child. Henry and I had become distant for a long time; there hadn’t been any intimacy between us for months. I wanted to talk to him about divorce—our family had been falling apart, but I was dragging it out, afraid of change. And now, this child—a living testament to my downfall. I don’t truly know James. He was tender on that trip, but can I trust him? What if he turns away the moment he finds out?
I wander around the house like a ghost, looking at my daughter and husband, and inside, everything screams. This baby grows inside me, and I don’t know what to do. Tell Henry? He’ll explode, kick me out, and I’ll be left alone with two kids. Tell James? What if he laughs in my face or disappears like smoke? I decided to reveal the truth to the child’s father in a few days, but every hour before that feels like torture. My head aches from thoughts, my heart bursts with fear and guilt. I wanted a peaceful life, but I’ve created chaos.
Mum looks at me with concern, but I keep silent—how can I tell her that her daughter, the perfect mother, and wife, is stuck in such disgrace? Henry returns late, tosses a tired “hello,” and doesn’t notice how I tremble. James passes by at work, and I catch his gaze—warm, yet distant. What do I do? Keep the baby and leave my husband? Drop everything and run? Or remain silent until the truth breaks free like a storm? I dreamed of happiness, of a second child, but not like this—not with betrayal, not with lies. Now I stand at the edge, and every step is an abyss.
Please, help me with advice! I am desperate and lost. My life is going downhill, and I don’t know how to save myself, my children, my soul. This child is both my guilt and my hope, but I fear he will destroy everything I have left. What do I do with this truth that burns me from inside? I want everything to be alright, but I fear it’s too late.
