I know what you, reader, might be thinking right now."How hypocritical. You cheated too, and now you can't forgive her?"
Maybe you're right.Maybe there is hypocrisy in my pain.But this isn't a confession seeking pity —it's simply the truth of what happened.
When I made my mistake, it wasn't planned.It wasn't emotional.It wasn't born from desire for someone else.
It was a moment of weakness —one that filled me with guilt the very second it ended.And that guilt stayed with me like a shadow I couldn't outrun.I never put love into what I did.It was a failure, not a choice of the heart.
But what I saw on her phone…that was something else entirely.
It wasn't just a body involved.It was her heart.
It was the words —"I miss you.""I love you.""Can't wait to see you again."
It was the pictures she sent, pictures filled with intention.It was the plans they made, the frequency of the messages,the emotional devotion hidden between each line.
It wasn't a slip.It wasn't a mistake.
It was a parallel relationship —one that had room to grow, to breathe, to exist.
I know I am far from innocent.And maybe that means I have no moral ground to point fingers.
But heartbreak doesn't follow logic.Pain doesn't wait for philosophical fairness.
In the position I was in —broken, humiliated, blindsided —I simply couldn't forgive.
For me, there is a difference between a body acting foolishlyand a heart choosing to belong somewhere else.
It's complicated.Painful.Messy.Far from perfect.
But in that moment, with everything collapsing inside me,one truth echoed louder than all the others:
I could never look at her the same way again.