I fell in love at forty, and he ruined my life… but I can’t let him go.
I’m forty and truly in love. Not with someone my own age, not with a man with an established career and experience. I lost my mind over a guy fifteen years younger. And instead of happiness, I got betrayal, humiliation, and bitterness. But, Lord, how I still love him…
Before meeting Adrian, I was a woman many would call successful. A high-ranking position, a stable salary, a nice flat in London, and a daughter, Lily, from my first marriage, who was already attending high school. I divorced my husband over ambitions — he wanted to move to Spain for work, but I had just been promoted and refused to sacrifice my career. We parted ways amicably, without scandals. And I was even content: freedom, independence, everything under control. But the years passed. There were fleeting romances, but nothing serious. Five years flew by, and I didn’t notice when a mature woman with tired eyes looked back at me in the mirror.
Then, at a mutual friend’s birthday party, I saw him. Adrian. Tall, athletic, with a smile that took my breath away. He came alone too. We flirted all evening, and then — I don’t know what came over me — I invited him over on the weekend. My daughter was abroad with her father. We were alone. It happened. And it happened more than once. He started coming over more often; sometimes at mine, sometimes at hotels. Adrian lived with his mother and sister — it was odd, but everything seemed to lie ahead. A few months later, he moved in with me. We started living together.
I lost my head. I bought him expensive watches, clothes, and gadgets. I tried to please him in every way so he would stay. He was young, handsome, desirable. And I increasingly felt that I was aging. His sister — Melissa — visited us often. Sweet, attentive, she got along well with Lily. We even took her to the seaside. I suspected nothing. Melissa seemed almost like a younger sister to me.
And then one day, I decided to plan a surprise. I took a day off without telling Adrian and quietly returned home. And I heard… laughter. Male and female. I approached the bedroom and saw them. Adrian and Melissa. Naked. In my bed. Melissa wasn’t his sister. She was his ex. Or current. I don’t know. I just froze. Later, he said he loved me and that it was over with her long ago. But I saw everything! He begged for forgiveness, saying she was unwell and had threatened to harm herself. That he couldn’t break it off with her immediately. That he loved me — only me.
Three months have passed. He still lives with me. He cleans, cooks, takes care of things. But I don’t believe him. I can’t bring myself to kick him out — my heart won’t let me. Yet, I can’t trust him anymore. I live in a hell of uncertainty. I look at my phone screen, and in every message from him, I see Melissa’s shadow. I don’t know how to move forward. Could you let go of someone you love so painfully, even knowing they betrayed you?..
