The Truth About Us.

I met him in May 2022. We both worked at the same place, and what started as small talk quickly turned into long walks home together. He told me about his fiancé, who was pregnant at the time, and about his daughter and stepdaughter. We had things in common—music, wanting children one day—and it felt easy to talk to him.

A few weeks in, he started telling me about problems at home. He said his fiance had split up with him, that he’d moved back in with his parents (just one street away from me). He said things had been bad for a long time, that they weren’t meant to be together, but he still wanted to be there for his kids.

I felt sorry for him. I invited him round for coffee. Nothing happened that night—we just talked. For the next month, he kept telling me how glad he was that he’d left, how excited he was to just be a dad without the weight of a relationship that wasn’t working. I agreed with him. Sometimes being apart really is healthier.

Then the flirting started. And I won’t lie—I went along with it. I started to like him, more than I wanted to admit at the time. For about five months, we saw each other in secret. He’d walk me home after work, come to my house, spend the night. But during the day, he barely spoke to me. And he always insisted no one could know. He said if his ex found out, she’d cause trouble. I was 21, naive, and I believed him.

By October, everything changed. He grew distant. He stopped walking home with me, stopped coming round. By then I’d developed strong feelings, and he told me he had too—but he couldn’t act on them because his baby was about to be born. That didn’t sit right with me, so I confided in a friend at work. That’s when I found out the truth.

He had never left her. They were still together. Still engaged. Still a family. Everything he told me had been a lie. I told her. I showed her the proof. I apologised over and over, because if I’d known, I would never have been involved. But she didn’t believe me. She told me I was lying, that I’d known all along, that I was just bitter he didn’t feel the same about me. And even though I understood her anger, the whole situation destroyed me. I left my job. I blocked him. I cut ties with both of them. I walked away.

But in October 2023, I bumped into him again. He told me that he and his fiance had split at the start of the year, that he’d been back living with his parents since June. I believed him. Again.

On December 10th, 2023, we got together officially. I fell for him harder than before. And then on Christmas Day, just two weeks later, he cheated. I didn’t find out until my birthday in January. And yes—I forgave him. We did the holidays, the birthdays, the road trips, the movie nights, the family days out. By May, I gave up my home and moved in with him. Online, it looked like I had everything I’d ever wanted. To my family, it looked like I was finally happy. And in some ways, I truly believed I was.

But behind closed doors, it was different. I wasn’t allowed to defend myself whenever his ex attacked me. I had to stay silent “for the sake of the kids.” His gaming addiction consumed him. His temper left all of us walking on eggshells. The disrespect with other women never stopped. Looking back now, I see it for what it was. Not love. Not safety. Not the dream I thought I’d found. It was control, dishonesty, and a love built on silence and illusion.

I thought I had found the person I’d been waiting for all my life. Instead, I found a mirror of everything I needed to learn: that love should never come at the cost of your voice, your peace, or your worth.

For too long, I was told to stay quiet, to keep the peace, to make myself small. Writing this is my way of breaking that silence. My voice belongs to me now, and I won’t let anyone take it again.