**A Love Doomed to Silence: The Confession of a Woman in Love with a Married Man**
I’ve decided to write here because I don’t have the courage to speak directly to the man who fills my every thought. This began three years ago when I first saw *him*. From that moment, my life split into “before” and “after.”
Our meetings are rare and accidental, yet each leaves an indelible mark. I can’t think of anyone else. Time hasn’t dulled my feelings—if anything, my love has only deepened, twisting into an unbearable ache.
But reality is cruel: *He’s married*. I know his marriage is far from perfect, yet they have a child, and that stops me from acting. I won’t tear a family apart, not when a child’s happiness is at stake.
There are other men around me—single, decent—but my heart belongs only to *him*. I never imagined that at forty, I’d feel such an all-consuming passion, one that’s lasted years.
It’s gone so far that I follow him on social media. I spend hours scrolling through his pictures, saving them to my laptop, compiling albums. It’s madness, but I can’t stop.
In one way, this love gives me strength—it makes me feel alive, sharp. In another, it drains me, leaving only hollowness and hurt. I exist on the edges of his world, never able to step into the light.
I know I’m trapped. I can’t go on this way, yet I can’t let go. It’s a vicious cycle with no escape.
If anyone’s been in this place before, I’d welcome your wisdom. Even the smallest kindness would mean something. Thank you.
*Sometimes the heart wants what it cannot have—but that doesn’t mean we should let it destroy us.*