I’M NO SAINT, BUT IT WASN’T MY CHOICE TO LEAVE — MY SON’S SCHEME CHANGED EVERYTHING
I’m forty-one, and until recently, I thought I had a decent life—a job, a home, a wife, two kids. Emily and I had been married for over a decade. At first, it was like a fairytale: love, passion, understanding. Then, as often happens, routine settled in. We drifted through the days, each one mirroring the last. There was still affection, even conversation, but inside, I felt hollow.
I began losing myself. With Emily, I no longer felt like a man—strong, desired. I’d become a ghost, a piece of furniture. The weight of it dragged me down. Then, one day, I slipped. At work, in accounting, there was a woman named Lucy. She’d smile, joke, catch my eye. Eventually, I asked her to dinner. And just like that, it began.
The irony? After the affair started, my marriage somehow revived. Emily and I rekindled something—passion, time together. But it was too late. I’d fallen for Lucy, properly. She wasn’t just a fling; she became my confidante, my escape. With her, I felt alive again. But living a double life was unbearable.
Then my sixteen-year-old son, Oliver, wrecked it all. Clever but spoiled, he always wanted more—designer clothes, the latest gadgets. One evening, as I returned from Lucy’s, he met me with a smirk.
“Dad, you weren’t at work, were you? You were with Lucy, right?”
I tried to deny it, but he pulled out his phone. Photos—Lucy and me in a café, in a cab. Proof. My blood ran cold. He shrugged.
“I don’t care who you sleep with. But you won’t tell Mum. Unless you want me to do it first—then you’ll transfer me some cash. For my ‘needs.’”
I caved. Paid him. At first, it was manageable—£100 here, £200 there. Silence had a price. But he grew bolder. When he demanded the newest iPhone, I snapped. Refused. He threatened to expose me. And that’s when I realised—enough. I’d tell her myself.
I confessed everything to Emily—the affair, the blackmail. She listened without tears, without rage. Just a nod. By morning, I’d packed my things and left for Lucy’s. Emily didn’t stop me. As for Oliver? His scheme collapsed. No more money, his mother furious, and his arrogance left him stranded.
I’m no saint. I cheated. But in this mess, I wasn’t the only one at fault. My mistake was running. His? Betrayal. And he paid for it. Me? At least now I’m living honestly—no more lies, to myself or anyone else. Sometimes, the truth burns, but it’s the only way to rebuild what’s left.