I love him, but I don’t want his child to grow up without a father.
Hello. My name is Emily, and I’m at a crossroads that will shape not just my life, but the lives of two others. I’m twenty-nine, living in Manchester, working at a small law firm, with friends and family who care about me… yet my heart belongs to a man I can’t openly be with. This isn’t just a love story. It’s a year of torment.
William and I were together for three years. Young, in love, carefree. We fought, made up, dreamed big. I thought he was the one, and he swore he couldn’t live without me. Then one day, we argued over something silly—both too proud to back down. We parted ways, stubborn and young.
Months passed. I missed him, staring at my phone, waiting for a message. Too proud to reach out first. Then I heard he’d started seeing someone else—a quiet girl from the office next door. A few months later, she was pregnant. It felt like my heart had been ripped out. I stood by the window, numb, as if an icy wind had settled inside me.
When his daughter was born, I finally called to congratulate him. He hesitated, then said, *“You’ve no idea how happy I am to hear your voice. Let’s meet.”*
I don’t know why I agreed. Maybe just to see his face. We barely spoke that day—just looked at each other, our silence heavy with love and regret. He held my hand while I cried.
Since then, we’ve met in secret. Never regularly, always careful. We haven’t been intimate—I can’t. Every time I think of his daughter, of the little girl waiting at home who knows his smile, his scent, his embrace, my chest tightens.
He often complains about his home life. Says there’s nothing between him and the mother of his child anymore. That he dreams of me. He asks, *“What if I left? Would you take me back?”*
I stay silent. Because all I see is a father. A little girl—Sophie, who can’t yet speak but already knows her dad’s laugh, the warmth of his hugs. How could I take that from her?
Maybe they don’t love each other. Maybe they’re only together for Sophie. But is that so wrong? Plenty of families make it work. Some even find love again. If I tear them apart, could I ever be happy, knowing Sophie grew up without her father?
I’m terrified. I dream of him, wake up thinking of him, can’t look at another man. He’s my air. But do I have the right to this happiness?
Sometimes I wonder—what if I were Sophie? If another woman took my dad away, how would I feel? I grew up without mine. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
William wants an answer. He talks more about leaving. *“Just tell me what you want,”* he pleads. *“I’ll walk away. Just say the word.”*
But I don’t know what to say.
My head tells me to walk away—to stay strong, to not ruin lives. My heart begs me to hold on.
If you’ve been here, tell me—can you build happiness without breaking someone else’s? Or does love always leave someone hurting?
I love him. But I don’t want his child to lose her father.
And for the first time in my life, I’m truly afraid.
