My name is Jessica White, and I live in a quiet corner of Devon, where the peaceful days drift by along the River Exe. I’ve wrestled with whether to write this, but an anguish inside me screams for release. I can’t keep it to myself any longer — I need to express this, as my life feels like it has fallen apart, and I’m unsure how to escape this nightmare.
It began with the fact that I’m the mother of a five-year-old daughter named Lily and the wife of a man who is consumed by his work. My husband, Thomas, is a workaholic through and through, rarely at home. My mother picks up our daughter from nursery, taking care of her each evening because both Thomas and I return late. I work at a large company — it’s a serious role and well-paid, but I give it my all, often staying late to finish my tasks. Two months ago, I was sent on a four-day business trip with a colleague, James. I asked my mother to stay at our place to look after Lily. She agreed, and I left without worry.
James and I drove in the company car. The day was filled with business, and in the evening we checked into our hotel. Suddenly, in the lift, he suggested we head down to the restaurant for dinner together. I nodded — why not? The evening turned out to be unexpectedly pleasant. We talked about everything imaginable, and I learned he’s divorced, with no children, and deeply involved in his work. His voice and laughter made me feel alive again, free in a way I hadn’t in years. For the first time, next to a man I barely knew, I felt at ease. After dinner, we went to our rooms, yet something inside me was already trembling.
The next day was filled with work, and by evening, another dinner. We finished early, and James suggested we celebrate our success with a bottle of red wine. I love red and didn’t decline. We ate, drank, laughed, and I saw where things were heading. My heart pounded, but I decided to head back to my room. He offered to walk me, and in the lift, it happened — his lips found mine, and a wave of passion swept over us. We ended up in his room, and the night was a whirlwind I feared to even think about. The following night was even more intense, more frantic — I was drowning in it, forgetting about home, my husband, everything.
Returning to Devon, I tried to erase it from memory. I immersed myself in work, avoided James, but a couple of weeks later, my world turned upside down: I was pregnant. Everything spun, my legs gave way. I was in shock, terrified, knowing it was his child. Thomas and I had drifted apart for months without intimacy. I wanted to talk to him about separating — our family had been split for a long time, but I hesitated, fearing change. Now, this child is living proof of my downfall. I don’t truly know James. He was kind during that trip, but can I trust him? What if he turns away once he knows?
I wander around the house like a ghost, looking at my daughter and husband, and inside, everything screams. This child grows within me, and I don’t know what to do. Should I tell Thomas? He might explode, throw me out, leaving me alone with two children. Tell James? What if he laughs or vanishes like smoke? I resolved to tell the child’s father in a few days, but every hour leading up to it is torture. My thoughts pound in my head, my heart splits from fear and guilt. I wanted a peaceful life, yet I’ve wrought chaos upon myself.
My mum looks at me with worry, but I stay silent — how can I tell her that her daughter, a diligent mother and wife, is caught in such disgrace? Thomas comes home late, drops a tired “hello,” not noticing how much I shake. James passes me at work, his look warm yet distant. What do I do? Keep the child and leave my husband? Abandon everything and run? Or stay silent until the truth surfaces like a storm? I dreamed of happiness, a second child, but not like this — not with betrayal, not with lies. Now I’m at the brink, and each step is a chasm.
Please, offer advice! I’m desperate, I’m lost. My life is spiraling down, and I don’t know how to save myself, my children, my soul. This child is both my burden and my hope, yet I fear it will destroy what remains. How do I handle this truth burning inside me? I want things to settle, but fear it’s already too late.
