I longed for my married lover to leave his wife – but now we’re together his secrecy feels like a worse betrayal
I wasn’t prepared for how much he would open up. With a deep sigh, he took a sip of his drink and admitted things weren’t great.
They had been trying for children for years, pouring a fortune into IVF – only to face heartbreak after heartbreak.
The stress, the scheduled sex, the endless disappointments – it had driven a massive wedge between them.
After three failed rounds of IVF, they hadn’t been intimate in a long time. They were sleeping in separate bedrooms.
He shocked me with his honesty, but it also felt like he trusted me – like he saw me as someone he could confide in. Did he see me as just a friend, or did he want more?
My heart ached for him – and for her. But at the same time, I felt a strange sense of relief. He wasn’t in a happy marriage. This wasn’t some fairytale love story I was about to ruin.
The gin had kicked in a little, and as the conversation flowed, he turned his attention to me. “What about you?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I’m single. No kids.”
His eyes lingered on mine, and the attraction between us grew stronger. The tingles, the butterflies – I could feel the tension crackling between us.
Do I make a move? Place a hand on his leg? I didn’t want to seem too keen.
We chatted for a while longer, both dancing around what we really wanted to say. Eventually, we went our separate ways. But later that night, he came back.
I’d given him a nod, a subtle hint. And when the knock came at my door, I knew it wasn’t room service – my midnight feast had arrived.
I opened the door and fell straight into his arms. After months of flirting, we couldn’t hold back any longer.
The sex was incredible – passionate, spontaneous and wild.
‘Temporary escape’
After that night, we tried to keep things professional, but we couldn’t resist each other. We arranged “meetings” outside of work, ones that conveniently allowed us to spend time together.
His job required him to travel often, which meant he could stay overnight in different places without raising suspicion.
At first, it was exciting. The secrecy, the passionate sex, the intensity of sneaking around – it was like something out of a film. But soon, reality set in.
“If your marriage is sexless and the baby dream isn’t happening, why are you still in it?” I asked him one day.
He looked torn. He wanted out, he said, but it wasn’t that simple. His in-laws adored him and his wife still believed there was hope for their future.
They had spent a fortune on IVF and he felt like walking away would make him the villain.
I felt sorry for her. There was guilt, too – what if that happened to me one day? I’m a big believer in karma, but I had to push that thought out of my mind.
I wasn’t her. I was a different person but I started to wonder – was he ever going to leave her? Was I just a temporary escape?
Months passed. I spent birthdays, anniversaries, and Valentine’s Days alone, while he played the role of dutiful husband at home. I didn’t want to scare him off and told myself to be patient, but how long was I supposed to wait?
Then, a year ago, everything changed. There was a knock at my door. When I opened it, there he was, waving a set of keys.
“I’ve left,” he said simply. “I told her it’s over.” I was stunned. He finally did it.
He told his wife he wasn’t happy, that they hadn’t been intimate in years, and that he had met someone else. She was devastated. I felt a pang of guilt, knowing she must have been blindsided.
But at the same time, I told myself it wasn’t my fault. Their marriage was over long before I was on the scene. It took a while for the news to sink in. I couldn’t believe he had finally done it.
I spent birthdays, anniversaries, and Valentine’s Days alone, while he played the role of dutiful husband at home. I didn’t want to scare him off and told myself to be patient, but how long was I supposed to wait?
Ruby Cutler
Now, he’s renting a beautiful house, and we’re officially together – but not everyone knows. He still hasn’t told his in-laws the full story.
They know the marriage is over and that he’s met someone else, but he hasn’t told them who or how serious it is. He also gave his ex-wife a watered-down version of events to spare her feelings – which I understand.
I want to shout it from the rooftops. I want to introduce him as my boyfriend to friends and family, post pictures of us together on Instagram, celebrate anniversaries and do all the things normal couples do.
But I have to wait. He’s still nervous. I’ve asked him, “Isn’t it time we go public? Your marriage is over. We’re together now. You left your wife a year ago.”
“Just a little longer,” he always says.
It’s hard. I thought that once he left his wife, the hiding, the secrets, and the lies would be over – but they’re not.
Most people still don’t know about us – not even my mum. I’m constantly batting away patronising questions like, “Isn’t it time you found yourself a fella?”
I feel like screaming, “I do! I have Mark!” But I can’t. I can’t say I’m seeing him. Some people would frown upon it – we live in a small town – but the truth is, things like this happen.
I’m not the first person in this situation and I won’t be the last. I’ve told Mark he can’t stay guilty forever but he’s hesitant, still unsure.
I know I have to be patient. A little longer won’t hurt. The most important thing is that we’re happy but I don’t feel like we can truly enjoy a real relationship until we go public.
The good news is his divorce is going through and, one day, I’d love to get married. But I don’t want to pressure him – we haven’t even talked about it yet. I won’t force anything.
One step at a time. First, we need to go public.