I’ve been married for ten years. In the beginning, things were far from perfect—my husband treated me poorly, even cheated on me a few times. Back then, I was young and hopeful, believing that love could conquer anything. I forgave him, thinking he’d change, and we went on to build a life together, even having children. For a while, I was content. I focused on our family, on being a wife and a mother, convincing myself that the past was in the past.

But around five or six years into our marriage, something shifted inside me. Little by little, unresolved feelings of resentment began to creep in. The forgiveness I had so readily given didn’t feel so solid anymore. I found myself looking back on all the times he had hurt me, the nights I had spent crying, wondering if I was worth more than what he had given. It was as if I’d suppressed those feelings for so long that they were now demanding to be heard.

With that resentment came a new urge, one that both frightened and intrigued me: the desire to reach out to other men behind his back. I craved a connection that felt validating, something that reminded me I was still desirable, still seen. I’d never acted on it, but the thoughts were there, lingering at the back of my mind. I began wondering what it would feel like to be with someone who valued me, someone who hadn’t betrayed my trust and taken me for granted.

When we were intimate, these thoughts only grew stronger. All I could think about was the hurt and betrayal he had caused, and a part of me almost resented him for expecting intimacy without ever making amends. In those moments, my mind wandered. I imagined what it would be like to feel truly loved, to feel wanted without the shadows of past infidelities hanging over me. I felt guilty for these thoughts but also powerless to stop them.

This inner conflict has lingered in the years since, a quiet storm beneath the surface of our marriage. I know I’ve been holding onto the resentment, allowing it to fester, but the thought of confronting him or facing those feelings head-on terrifies me. After ten years, I wonder if we’re both just clinging to what we built out of habit, rather than true connection.

Part of me wants to find closure—to either let go of this resentment or face the difficult conversations we’ve avoided for so long. But another part of me worries it’s too late, that too much damage has already been done.