Pavel left me because he couldn’t have children, but then something unexpected happened.
I’m quite the romantic.
At one point, I found myself in a situation I didn’t know how to escape. Everything was tangled, but then somehow it all fell into place.
It happened at a birthday party for my friend. The music in the country cottage blared so loudly, it felt like my ears would burst. Emotions surged inside us, and desires erupted in the most unexpected ways.
We toasted to health so many times that eventually, I lost myself; everything blurred, and the music rang in my ears. I don’t even remember how I ended up on a sofa, wrapped in a blanket.
The next morning, as I went downstairs for coffee, I bumped into a handsome guy who suddenly appeared before me.
“How are you? You seemed a bit off last night,” he said.
I looked at him, and then it hit me: he was the one who had helped me to that saving sofa. Now he was smiling charmingly, and I melted under his beautiful blue eyes. The day was lovely: wispy clouds drifted above us, a gentle breeze caressed my cheeks… We strolled until late evening, and at one point, when I stumbled, I found myself in his arms. Our eyes locked, our lips met—somewhere on a picturesque hill, under the open sky.
Our silent agreement about everything happening kept us from questioning the future. But those questions arose naturally a few days after we returned to the city.
Three months earlier, I had met a reliable man, a banker—stable, well-off, and inspiring trust. His name was Paul. When I saw him, there were none of the typical tingles or lightheadedness. There was something else—it was as if my mind was falling for him. Paul was so organized that his logic in everything he did amazed me. I felt mature beside him, even though I wasn’t really.
These two stories intertwined in a peculiar manner. I was utterly confused about what to do. I felt a hint of guilt for the betrayal, a bit of joy that the wild side of me was still alive, and some embarrassment because I had a decision to make.
Now we were together.
I had been seeing Paul, with whom everything seemed meticulously planned, but spontaneity accompanied the blue-eyed guy. A few months passed like this. But there’s always an event that shatters your illusions and dreams.
My event was an unexpected pregnancy. Who was the father? As I pondered this classic question, Paul suddenly fell into a melancholic mood, the cause of which I couldn’t gauge. Something was going on with him, but I couldn’t even guess what. Until one evening, he showed up with a massive bouquet of red roses and an unsettling revelation:
“We need to part ways—at least temporarily… There are things I can’t tell you—my issues that you haven’t caused.”
I actually needed time too—I was considering how to tell him about the baby. We agreed to meet up again in a month. I thought perhaps he was dealing with some banking complications that put him in danger, and he wanted to protect me. What else could it be?
Two weeks passed. I hadn’t made any decisions yet, but one day, the blue-eyed guy astonished me by expressing his surprise at people who yearn for family:
“Children are a significant complication in life,” he remarked while talking about his friend. “Why does everyone rush to leave behind offspring?”
The conversation ventured into unexpected territory, revealing sides of him I hadn’t anticipated. I suddenly realised I didn’t know this person at all—I had merely given in to passion. Clarity returned, and logic overtook my emotions—it was time to end that relationship. And I did.
Another two weeks went by—it was time for my meeting with Paul. I was unsure of what to do—should I tell him?
“I need to tell you that…” I began.
“I’m really leaving,” he interrupted at that moment. “I have no choice. I hope you find happiness; you deserve it. Now go on…”
I didn’t mention it: this man, who had given me such strong feelings of confidence, had suddenly clamped the door to his soul shut. And he was disappearing from my life.
We parted ways. He gently stroked my head, and I could’ve sworn his eyes were moist…
I became more reclusive, trying to sort out my thoughts and days. That continued until the day I went into labour. I went to the hospital alone, thinking I would leave on my own with the baby in my arms.
But on discharge day, a parcel arrived with baby clothes—who could it be from? There was a note. Reading those few lines made me cry because they contained the most important words of my life: from Paul. I kissed my sleeping daughter (that’s what I named her, as she was all my hope), and sat on the bed. Paul shouted from downstairs:
“Well then, when can I see my daughter?”
Now you’re probably wondering: what happened? He had run into my friend—the very one from the cottage. They struck up a conversation, and she told him everything, adding that I had realised how deeply I loved him.
And do you know what? Paul never stopped loving me. My infidelity was never mentioned again in our conversations: that amazing man had broken up with me because he learned he couldn’t have children.
This weighed heavily on him all along. He thought he had no right to punish me for it. Thus, it was clear that my daughter was the result of my secret passion.
Yet for Paul, what mattered was that this child was conceived from beautiful emotions; besides, she was my child, and he, it turned out, began to love me even more. What more could we need? We both learned our life lesson, and since then, we’ve had no secrets—we still speak openly to each other. We love each other sincerely and are one of the happiest families imaginable.
