I’m torn between two families and don’t know how to choose between them.
During my university years, I, Oliver, married my first love, Emily. It was passion, a whirlwind of emotions that led us to the altar. After the wedding came ordinary life: work, home, routines. We had two children, and like all families, we weathered ups and downs. There were happy moments, there were arguments, but we got through them. I thought it would always be this way—steady, predictable. But fate had other plans, and now I stand at the edge of a cliff, trapped in a mess of my own making.
I was nearly 40 when she joined our small company in a town near Manchester—Lucy, the new colleague. She was like something out of a dream—young, vibrant, with a smile that could light up a room. I couldn’t look away. Thoughts of her filled my head, my heart racing whenever she walked past. I never expected, at my age, to feel like a lovesick boy again. Strangely, Lucy felt the same. Her glances, the teasing, the accidental touches—it all stirred a fire in me I’d long forgotten.
What started as flirtation became an affair. One evening, one mistake, and we couldn’t stop. With Lucy, I felt alive, young, free. In those moments, I didn’t think about betraying Emily. It felt too good to consider right or wrong. Lucy knew I was married, but it didn’t matter to her. We met in secret—rented flats, hotels, far from prying eyes. I never planned to leave my family—I convinced myself I could balance both lives. It was a delusion, but I clung to it like a lifeline.
Years later, Lucy told me she was pregnant. When our son was born, I was over the moon. Holding him, I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. My stable life had been turned upside down. I felt emotions I’d lost long ago—wonder, joy, the thrill of a new beginning. But with the happiness came guilt. I lived a double life. To Emily, I lied about business trips; to Lucy, I ran home as often as I could. I was pulled in two directions, unable to choose. Both women meant the world to me in different ways. I loved them both, but I was losing control.
As time passed, Lucy changed. Motherhood made her sharper. Raising our son mostly alone had taken its toll. She accused me—not enough money, not enough time. “You knew what you were getting into,” she’d say, but the words stung. She had known I was married, that I had another family, other children I had to support. The complaints turned into rows. Yet home was no better. Emily noticed the money stretching thin. “You’re hardly earning enough—how do you expect us to live?” she’d shout. I was caught between them, and no matter where I went, there was anger. My life had become a nightmare with no escape.
I’m exhausted. Tired of lying, tired of being torn apart, tired of the constant blame. Each of them pulls me in different directions, and I can’t choose. Emily is my past, my family, the mother of my older children. We’ve been through so much together, and the thought of leaving her breaks my heart. But Lucy—she’s my passion, my second chance, the mother of my son. I can’t imagine life without her. They’re both a part of me, yet I can’t keep living this hell. Who do I leave? Who do I betray? Loving them both is tearing me apart inside, and their demands are driving me mad. I’m at a crossroads, and every step feels like a step into the abyss. How do you choose when either choice will destroy you?
