My name is Anastasia Lewis, and I reside in the quaint town of Henley along the River Thames. I hesitated for a long time about writing this message, but I am consumed by confusion and pain. I can no longer remain silent—I need to express myself because my life has plummeted into chaos, and I’m at a loss on how to navigate this nightmare.
It all started with my role as a mother to my five-year-old daughter, Alice, and a wife to a husband who is married to his job. My husband, Oliver, is a workaholic through and through, rarely ever home. My mother picks Alice up from daycare and watches her in the evenings, as Oliver and I both return late. I work at a major company—a demanding position that pays well, but it requires me to give my all, often staying late to complete tasks. Two months ago, I was sent on a four-day business trip with a colleague, Andrew. I asked my mother to stay with us and look after Alice. She agreed, allowing me to leave with peace of mind.
Andrew and I traveled together in the company vehicle. The day was busy with work, and in the evening, we checked into the hotel. In the lift, Andrew suggested we have dinner together in the hotel restaurant. I agreed—why not? The evening turned out to be unexpectedly pleasant. We talked about everything under the sun, and I learned that he was divorced with no children, fully absorbed in his career. His voice and laughter made me feel free and alive, a sensation I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was easy being with someone I barely knew for the first time in years. After dinner, we each went to our rooms, but something inside me was already stirring.
The next day was filled with work, and in the evening, another dinner. We finished early, and Andrew suggested celebrating our success with a bottle of red wine. I love red wine, so I accepted. We ate, drank, laughed, and I could sense where things were headed. My heart pounded, but I decided to retreat to my room. He offered to walk me, and in the lift, it happened—his lips found mine, and passion washed over us like a wave. We ended up in his room, and the night became a whirlwind that I feared to even contemplate. The following night was even more intense, more reckless—I drowned in it, forgetting about home, my husband, everything.
Upon returning to Henley, I attempted to erase it from my memory. I immersed myself in work, avoiding Andrew, but within a few weeks, life hit me hard: I was pregnant. The world spun, and my legs gave way. I was in shock, terrified, but knew—it was his child. Oliver and I had drifted apart long ago, with months of detachment between us. I wanted to discuss divorce—our family had been crumbling for a while, but I hesitated, afraid of change. And now this child—a living testament to my downfall. I barely know Andrew. He was tender on that trip, but can I trust him? What if he turns away once he finds out?
I wander through the house like a ghost, looking at my daughter and husband, and I am screaming inside. This child grows within me, and I don’t know what to do. Should I tell Oliver? He’d explode, cast me out, leaving me alone with two children. Should I tell Andrew? What if he laughs in my face or vanishes like smoke? I’ve decided to reveal the truth to the child’s father in a few days, but every hour leading up to it is torture. My head aches from thoughts, my heart is torn by fear and guilt. I longed for a peaceful life, but got chaos of my own making.
My mother watches me with concern, but I stay silent—how do I tell her that her daughter, an exemplary mother and wife, is tangled in such shame? Oliver comes home late, throws a weary “hello” my way, oblivious to my shaking. Andrew passes by at work, and I catch his gaze—warm but distant. What should I do? Keep the child and leave my husband? Abandon everything and run? Or stay silent until the truth erupts 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, with every step leading into the abyss.
I beg for advice! I’m desperate, I’m lost. My life is spiraling, 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 it will destroy everything I have left. What should I do with this truth that burns inside me? I want everything to be alright, but I’m afraid it’s already too late.
