Over the next seven months, we only had sex nine times (three in the car, like teenagers). I’d never felt this besotted, not even in the early days with Sarah. I’d fallen in love. I wish I could say that I was wracked with guilt for betraying my wife, but at that time I wasn’t thinking normally. I didn’t want to leave her but I wasn’t thinking straight. My parents are traditional and Christian and I’m not sure I could ever have walked out on my marriage. Nor was Anna pledging to leave her young family. I had dark daydreams that something would happen to our partners and we’d be free to be together. I am aware how sick that sounds. 

Then one evening it came out. I was having a drink with my closest university friend – my Best Man - and I announced I wanted to leave Sarah. 

“You absolute p**ck,” was his blunt response. He reeled off what I already deep down knew, that I couldn’t leave lovely, loyal Sarah with three young kids, one of whom had special needs. I’d lose the house I’d slogged for, and the respect of my parents and everyone else. I’d have to move town. “You’ve got too much to lose,” he said. “Get a grip and end it.”

He’d burst my bubble, and he was – of course – right.

He verbalised what I’d known in the back of my head all along. Realising I would eventually have to end it after a few days I wrote Anna a long message explaining exactly why I couldn’t carry on. Then deleted it. We met once more in a car park. Anna cried but I was cold. 

I couldn’t face climbing into bed with Sarah that night after the break-up. I took a bottle of whiskey to the spare room and just cried.

I was so floored I even briefly thought of telling Sarah everything. But instead I went through the motions of family life and work. Like a moping teenager, I sent Anna one final email with all the songs that made me think of her, then I quit tennis and started walking the dog for miles a day. I avoided anywhere Anna might be, driving past the Travelodge genuinely gave my physical heart pains. I stayed up drinking at night, avoiding sex with Sarah.

It felt like the colour had gone from my life. I realise this is how everyone feels after a break-up, but I’d never had it before. I wasn’t equipped for all the intense emotions. And pretending everything was fine was so hard. 

It took a long, painful time before life reverted to how it was before the affair. That was four years ago now, and it helped when Anna’s family moved. Some late nights, I still look at her social media.

Sarah, thank God, never found out. I was so depressed for a while we ended up having relationship counselling. In secret I had private therapy too, I needed to talk about Anna. The stomach-churning guilt about my behaviour came much later, only once I’d got out of my own head a bit. When one of the boys called me the “best daddy”, or when we all gathered to clap as our youngest graduated from the local primary, I’d watch Sarah, the proud devoted mum and wonder how on earth I could have ever thought about letting her down. That’s something I have to live with. 

Despite all heady excitement, I’d never have another affair. It felt like the biggest tragedy of my life and it nearly broke me.

As told to Susanna Galton