I’ve been married for ten years. In the early years, my husband didn’t treat me well. He cheated on me, more times than I care to admit, but back then, I was young and in love, willing to forgive. I wanted so badly to hold on to the dream of a life together, so I let it go. We moved forward, had children, built a life. But as time passed, something in me changed.

About five or six years into the marriage, the resentment began to take root. It was subtle at first, creeping into my thoughts when I least expected it—little whispers of bitterness over how he had treated me. But then, the urges started. I found myself wanting to reach out to other men, to feel something different, something that made me feel desired and alive again.

All I could eventually think about when being intimate with my husband was someone else. The idea of escape, of being with someone who saw me, who wanted me, consumed my thoughts. It wasn’t about love, not even necessarily about sex—it was about feeling noticed. I was angry with him for the hurt he caused, but angrier with myself for not moving on from it. Every time he touched me, I wondered what it would feel like to be touched by someone else, someone who hadn’t betrayed me, someone who hadn’t made me feel small and unseen.

I began having secret conversations—innocent at first, or so I convinced myself. Just a text here, a message there, a smile exchanged with someone at work. But it was the attention I craved. I wanted someone to look at me like I mattered. It became all I could think about, and soon, I couldn’t hide it anymore, not even from myself.

In the quiet moments, I’d ask myself how I ended up here, feeling so disconnected from the person I had promised to love forever. Was this marriage really the dream I had chased? Or had it been broken long ago, and I was just too scared to admit it?

Those thoughts of resentment, of wanting more, kept pulling me further away from him. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop wondering—what would happen if I finally gave in? What would happen if I stopped pretending to be the dutiful wife and let myself seek what I had been missing all along?