Regret in the Heart: Ethan’s Dilemma Between Two Loves

“Do you still love her, Ethan?”

Aria’s voice cut through the silence of our bedroom like a knife. I sat on the edge of the bed, bent forward, hands trembling between my knees. I couldn’t meet her eyes, not with the storm of guilt and longing swirling inside me. The clock on the nightstand blinked 2:17 AM in angry red digits, as if time itself was screaming at me. I swallowed, searching for words that didn’t exist.

She was standing by the window, her silhouette outlined by the streetlight outside. We’d only been married a little over a year, and already I felt the ground shifting beneath us. I could hear the faint hum of cars on the highway—a reminder that the world kept moving, even when your heart didn’t.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Aria,” I finally whispered. My words sounded pathetic, even to me.

“Tell me the truth,” she said, her voice brittle. “You talk about Penelope and Ellie every day. You act like I’m just… I don’t know, a placeholder until you figure out how to go back to them.”

I tightened my grip on my knees, feeling my wedding ring press into my finger. I knew this conversation was coming—hell, I’d been dreading it for months. Ever since that April afternoon when Ellie turned six and I missed her birthday party because Aria’s mother was in the hospital, my mind had been split in two: half of me in this new life, half of me forever chasing the old one.

The truth was, I didn’t know how to let go of either.

I used to think love was a straight line. You meet someone, you fall in love, you build a life. But after my divorce with Penelope, nothing made sense anymore. We’d been together since college, two kids from suburban Ohio who moved out to North Carolina to chase dreams—hers of being a nurse, mine of starting my own landscaping company. We had Ellie, this bright, stubborn little girl with Penelope’s laugh and my eyes. I thought that was enough.

But life happens. Late nights, money problems, small resentments that grew into monsters. The fights got louder. The silences got longer. Eventually, one of us left—me, packing a single suitcase and feeling like a ghost inside my own life.

I met Aria at a bar in Durham, just after the ink dried on my divorce papers. She was all fire and wit, a whirlwind of energy that made me feel alive again. I thought she was my second chance. Maybe she was.

But Penelope and Ellie were never far from my thoughts. I saw Ellie every other weekend, picking her up from Penelope’s cozy clapboard house with the blue shutters. Penelope would wave from the porch, sometimes with a tight smile, sometimes with tears she tried to hide. We’d talk, awkward at first, but then like old friends, slipping into the rhythm of shared history. I tried to pretend those moments didn’t mean anything. But they did.

Aria turned to face me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Do you want to go back to them?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I closed my eyes. I could see Ellie’s face, the way she clung to my hand at the park, her laughter ringing out as she chased the ducks. I could see Penelope in the kitchen, making pancakes on Sunday mornings, the sun streaming in through the window. I could feel the ache of what I’d lost, of what I’d broken.

“I miss them,” I admitted, the words tumbling out. “I miss my daughter. I miss the way things used to be. But I love you, Aria. I do. It’s just… it’s not simple.”

She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “It’s never simple with you, Ethan. I thought I could handle being your second act, but I’m tired of living in someone else’s shadow.”

The next morning, I woke up to find Aria’s side of the bed empty, her pillow cold. She’d left a note on the kitchen counter: “I can’t do this anymore. I need to be someone’s first choice.”

I stood in the kitchen, the sunlight harsh and unforgiving. My phone buzzed—a text from Penelope. “Ellie had a nightmare. She wants to see you.”

My heart twisted. I drove to Penelope’s house, hands shaking the whole way. Ellie ran into my arms, sobbing quietly. Penelope watched us from the doorway, her arms crossed, eyes wary but soft.

After Ellie fell asleep, Penelope poured us coffee and we sat in the kitchen, like we used to. The silence was heavy, but it was the kind that felt familiar, like an old blanket.

“I heard about Aria,” she said gently. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged, staring into my cup. “I don’t know. I keep messing things up.”

Penelope reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You’re not a bad person, Ethan. You just need to figure out what you want. For yourself. For Ellie.”

I looked at her, the woman I’d loved and hurt, the mother of my child. I thought about Aria, her laughter, her dreams, the way she wanted to build a new life with me. I thought about Ellie, caught in the middle of my indecision.

How do you choose between the past and the future when your heart is stuck in both? How do you stop hurting the people you love most?

Maybe some mistakes can never be fixed. Maybe some choices haunt you forever. Or maybe, just maybe, there’s a way forward, if you can finally decide who you want to be.

If you were me, would you chase the comfort of old love or risk everything for a second chance? Can you really love two people at once—or is that just another lie we tell ourselves to avoid the pain of choosing?