I’m torn between two families and can’t decide which to leave behind.
During my university years, I, Edward, married my first love, Emily. It was passion, a whirlwind of emotions that swept us to the altar. After the wedding came the ordinary life: work, home, routines. We had two children, and like every family, we weathered highs and lows. There were happy moments, there were arguments, but we managed. I thought it would always be this way—a steady life where everything was predictable. But fate had other plans, and now I stand at the edge of a cliff, unsure how to escape the trap I’ve walked into myself.
I was nearly 40 when she joined our company in a small town near Manchester—Sophie, the new colleague. She seemed from another world: young, radiant, with a dazzling smile, as though she’d stepped off a magazine cover. I couldn’t look away. Thoughts of her filled my head; my heart raced whenever she walked past. I never expected to fall so hard at my age, like a schoolboy. Strangely, Sophie felt the same. Her glances, light flirtation, accidental touches—it all stoked a fire I’d long forgotten.
Our connection turned into an affair. It happened by chance: one meeting, one evening, and we couldn’t stop. With Sophie, I felt alive, young, free. In those moments, I didn’t think about betraying Emily. It felt too good to consider right or wrong. Sophie knew I was married, but it didn’t deter her. We met in secret—rented flats, hotels, far from prying eyes. I never planned to leave my family—I thought I could balance both lives. It was an illusion, but I clung to it like a lifeline.
Years later, Sophie told me she was pregnant. When our son was born, I was over the moon. Holding him, I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. My once-stable life had shattered. I felt emotions I’d long forgotten—awe, joy, the thrill of a fresh start. But with that happiness came weight. I lived for two families. To Emily, I lied about business trips while rushing to Sophie and our son. I was split, unsure how to choose. Both women mattered to me, each in different ways. I loved them both, yet control slipped through my fingers.
Over time, Sophie changed. Motherhood made her demanding. Raising our son alone left its mark. She began to criticise me: not enough money, not enough support, not enough time. “You knew what you were getting into,” she’d say, but her words cut deep. She knew I had another family, other children to provide for. Her complaints turned into rows. Yet home was no better. Emily noticed the money thinning too. “You earn less—how are we supposed to live?” she’d shout. I was caught between them, but wherever I went, anger waited. My life had become a nightmare without respite.
I’m exhausted. Tired of lying, torn in two, worn down by endless blame. Each pulls at me, and I can’t choose. Emily is my history, my family, the mother of my older children. We’ve been through so much, and the thought of leaving her breaks my heart. But Sophie is my passion, my new life, the mother of my son. Without her, I feel lost. Both are part of me, yet I can’t keep living in this hell. Who do I leave? Who do I betray? Loving them both burns me from within, and their demands push me to despair. I stand at a crossroads—every step feels like a plunge into darkness. How do I choose when either path will shatter me?
Sometimes, wanting everything costs more than we can afford.
