Married, but Pregnant by a Colleague… What Do I Do?
My name is Emily Whitmore, and I live in Canterbury, where the River Stour winds lazily through quiet, cobbled streets. I’ve hesitated for weeks, but the pain inside me is too much—I can’t stay silent any longer. My life has spiralled into chaos, and I’m drowning in it.
I’m a mother to my five-year-old daughter, Charlotte, and the wife of a man who lives for his job. My husband, James, is a workaholic, hardly ever home. My mum picks Charlotte up from nursery and stays with her in the evenings because James and I are never back in time. I work at a prestigious firm—good pay, long hours—and I give it everything. Two months ago, I was sent on a four-day business trip with a colleague, Daniel. Mum agreed to stay with Charlotte, so I left with no worries.
We drove in the company car. The day was all business, but that evening, in the hotel lift, Daniel suggested dinner. I agreed—why not? The night was unexpectedly wonderful. We talked about everything—his divorce, no kids, his dedication to work. His voice, his laugh… For the first time in years, I felt alive. Light. After dinner, we went to our separate rooms, but something inside me had already shifted.
The next evening, after wrapping up early, he opened a bottle of red wine—my favourite—to celebrate. We drank, laughed, and I knew where it was heading. My pulse raced, but I stood to leave. He offered to walk me to my room. In the lift, his lips found mine. Desire swallowed us whole. His hotel room became a storm of passion I couldn’t escape. The next night was wilder still—I forgot about home, about James, about everything.
Back in Canterbury, I tried to forget. Buried myself in work, avoided Daniel. Then, two weeks later, the world dropped out from under me: I’m pregnant. My legs gave way. Shock. Horror. It’s his. James and I haven’t been close for months. I’d been thinking of divorce—our marriage crumbling—but I was too afraid. Now this child is proof of my betrayal. I don’t really know Daniel. He was tender then, but can I trust him? What if he walks away?
I move through the house like a ghost. Charlotte smiles, James tosses a tired «hello,» blind to my trembling. At work, Daniel passes me—his gaze warm, but distant. What do I do? Tell James? He’ll explode, throw me out, and I’ll be alone with two children. Tell Daniel? What if he laughs in my face or vanishes? I’ve decided to confess to him in a few days, but every second is agony. My mind races, my heart splits with guilt.
Mum watches me, concerned, but how do I tell her her perfect daughter, the dutiful wife and mother, has fallen so far? James doesn’t see the cracks. Daniel doesn’t know the storm inside me. Do I keep the baby? Leave James? Run away? Or stay silent until the truth erupts like a hurricane? I wanted happiness, another child—but not like this. Not with lies.
Now I stand on the edge, and every step is a fall. I’m lost. My life is unravelling. This baby is my shame and my hope—but I’m terrified it will destroy what little I have left. What do I do with this truth burning inside me? I want to fix everything, but I fear it’s already too late.