My name is Helen Martin and I reside in the quiet town of Rye, where the serene coasts of East Sussex whisper tales of the sea. I’ve known Oliver for what feels like a lifetime. He was always a joker, a man with a fondness for carefree living and the company of women. But fate played a cruel joke on him, and now he’s floundering in a pit of his own making.
His wife, Sarah, has been working her fingers to the bone in Germany for the past two years. She left him with their two children—already grown and independent—and went abroad to earn a living. She returns only once a year, in the summer, for just a week or two—annual leave doesn’t permit more. Nevertheless, she diligently deposits money into their joint account each month, which Oliver is free to access. We ran into each other by chance recently, and he invited me for a coffee. Over our drinks, he spilled his tale—bitter as cheap coffee, and so absurd that I still can’t fathom how he got himself into this mess.
When Sarah left, Oliver endured a year of solitude, distracted by brief flings with old acquaintances, but eventually decided enough was enough. He longed for warmth and passion, for someone by his side in bed. “You only live once!” he told himself. That’s when he set his sights on a young woman, Annie, who had long caught his eye. She played hard to get, pretending to be above it all, but eventually gave in—becoming his lover. Beautiful as a picture, but with a temperament that was a nightmare. Endless demands, tantrums, and expectations. Oliver, gentle and kind, was like putty in her hands, catering to her every whim.
He knew full well that nothing good ever comes from such affairs, especially if you’re too weak-willed to resist a pretty smile. Annie bled him dry. At first, it was money for clothes and bills, then for renovations to her house and holiday home, her son’s graduation, and a new TV. It got so bad that he bought her a second-hand car. When his savings dried up, he tapped into his wife’s account—thinking no one would notice. But secrets have a way of coming out. Sarah discovered the betrayal—“well-meaning” people made sure she heard, even from a distance. She tore into him over a video call, her voice shaking the windows. Threatened to tell their daughters—who adored their father and saw him as a hero, but would turn their backs for such a betrayal. She promised to return and file for divorce if he didn’t end things with that girl.
Annie clung to him like a leech. She wasn’t about to lose such a generous “sugar daddy.” First, she put on an act about being pregnant—vowing to have his child, playing on his sympathy. In a panic, Oliver took her on a holiday to talk her out of it. She agreed to an abortion but presented him with a bill—£8,000 he didn’t have. He had to take out a loan, sinking deep into debt. Just as he thought the nightmare was over, Annie started an affair with his boss. Now, under her spell, his employer torments Oliver at work—belittling him and threatening to fire him. If he loses his job, how will he repay the loan? Oliver is on the edge: his job hangs by a thread, money is running out, and his conscience gnaws at him like a hungry dog.
He confided in me his thoughts of fleeing to Sarah in Germany—leaving everything behind, throwing himself at her feet, begging for forgiveness. Perhaps that’s the only way to salvage what’s left of his life? In parting, he gave a bitter smile: “I knew there’s no such thing as a free lunch, but my share turned out way too bitter.” He walked away, head hung low, leaving me staring into an empty cup. Oliver thrust himself into this hell—for the sake of transient passion, for a girl who drained him of everything: money, pride, family. Sarah toils in a foreign land so their children might live well, while he traded her for a capricious parasite. If his daughters learned the truth, they’d curse him—and rightfully so.
I see him sinking, yet can’t help but wonder what’s next. Annie will wring him dry and discard him like a husk. The boss will sack him, leaving him with nothing—no family, no home, and a debt that will suffocate him for the rest of his days. He thought youth could be bought, that love was a toy wrapped in shiny paper. Now he pays the price—bitterly, forlornly, with empty hands. Maybe Sarah would take him back, but forgive him? I wouldn’t. He betrayed not only her but their children, and future grandchildren who might have brightened his old age. Instead, he’s left with a young vixen laughing at him behind his back. So much for the joker—now he’s just a shadow of his former self, and this lesson he won’t soon forget.
