When I discovered David’s affair, I couldn’t breathe. It was like the air had been stolen from my lungs. Ten years of marriage, a decade of trust, gone in a single moment when I scrolled through his messages with Amber. They were planning trips, dinners, and more, while I sat at home, oblivious. The pain was unbearable, and I spent nights crying, feeling utterly broken.

For weeks, I was a shadow of myself, trying to understand how he could do this to me. I confronted him, and he denied it at first, but the proof was undeniable. His weak apologies only fueled my anger. I realized I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want to be the wife who was cheated on and left to pick up the pieces.

I decided to take my power back. I reached out to someone I hadn’t seen in years—an old flame who had once meant a lot to me. It wasn’t about love or rekindling something from the past. It was about feeling alive again, about knowing that I was still desirable, still in control of my own life.

When David found out, he was livid. He didn’t get to play the victim, though. This time, the betrayal was his to own, and I was done shedding tears over him. I didn’t know what the future held for us, but I knew I was done being the woman who suffered in silence. I deserved better, and now, I was making sure I got it.