My parents had me in their student years: my mother was 22, right before she finished her university degree in financial planning, and my father was 26, as a graduate student in theoretical  physics.

Their passionate affair was mostly sexual in nature, and I was not planned. They married when my mother was three months pregnant, after a few complex dating years.

As far as I understood, they both were ready to part ways: my mother was considering to marry another guy who was in the process to immigrate to Australia with his artsy connected family, and my father was not quite into it either, and he suspected her betrayal.

Neither side of the family liked their choices of each other.

Later, both of my parents told me that my existence destroyed their lives.