I fell in love at forty, and he turned my life upside down… yet I can’t let him go.
At forty, I found myself truly in love. Not with someone my own age, nor with a man who had a solid career and experience under his belt. I lost my head over a bloke fifteen years my junior. And yes, instead of happiness, I got betrayal, humiliation, and heartache. But, oh Lord, how I still love him…
Before I met Patrick, I was what many would call a successful woman. High position, steady salary, a lovely flat in London, and my daughter Emma from my first marriage, who was already in secondary school. I got divorced from my husband because of ambitions — he wanted to move to Spain for work, and I had just been promoted and couldn’t sacrifice my career. We parted amicably with no drama. I was even content: freedom, independence, everything under control. But the years flew by. There were fleeting romances, but nothing serious. Five years slipped by, and before I knew it, I saw a grown woman with tired eyes staring back at me from the mirror.
Then, at a mutual friend’s birthday party, I saw him. Patrick. Tall, athletic, with a smile that took my breath away. He was there alone as well. We flirted all evening, and — I don’t know what came over me — I invited him over for the weekend. My daughter was visiting her father abroad. We had the place to ourselves. One thing led to another, and we were seeing each other often. Sometimes at mine, sometimes at hotels. Patrick lived with his mum and sister — unusual, but I thought everything was ahead of us. A few months later, he moved in. We began living together.
I lost my head completely. Bought him expensive watches, clothes, gadgets. Did everything to please him so he would stay. He was young, handsome, desirable. And I felt like I was aging by the day. His sister — Lily — often visited us. Sweet, attentive, got along well with Emma. We even took her to the seaside. I suspected nothing. Lily seemed almost like a younger sister to me.
Then one day, I decided to surprise him. Took a day off without telling Patrick and quietly returned home. I heard… laughter. Both male and female. I approached the bedroom — and saw them. Patrick and Lily. Naked. In my bed. Lily wasn’t his sister. She was his ex. Or maybe still his girlfriend. I don’t know. I just froze. He later said he loved me and that things with her were over. But I saw what I saw! He pleaded for forgiveness, kept saying she was unwell and had threatened to harm herself. That he couldn’t just cut ties with her immediately. That he loved me — and only me.
Three months have passed. He’s still here. Cleans, cooks, takes care of things. But I don’t believe him. I can’t make him leave — my heart won’t allow it. Yet I can’t trust him either. I live in a hell of doubts. I look at my phone, and in every message, I see Lily’s shadow. I don’t know how to move forward. Could you let go of someone you love so intensely, knowing they’ve betrayed you?
