When my husband’s boss threatened his job over unpaid debts, we felt trapped. The walls seemed to close in around us as we tried to find a way out. The debts were mounting, and his boss, a man with power over our livelihood, made an offer that left us reeling. “One night,” he said. “One night with your wife, and the debt is gone.”

At first, we refused to even entertain the idea. It felt sickening, immoral, and impossible. But as the days passed, the reality of losing his job weighed heavier on us. If he lost his position, we would have no way to pay the debt or keep up with our bills. Desperation clouded our judgment. We were cornered, and the offer began to feel less like a choice and more like an ultimatum.

One evening, after hours of silence, my husband looked at me, his eyes filled with pain. “If this is the only way, I’ll support whatever you decide,” he said. His words broke me, but I knew he meant it. It wasn’t approval; it was resignation.

That night, I gave in to the unthinkable. I told myself it was for us, for our future, for the security of our family. But when it was over, I realized the cost of that decision wasn’t just mine to bear—it was ours.

The debt was gone, and his job was safe, but the weight of that night lingers between us. We don’t talk about it, but the scar is there. In his eyes, I see the guilt of letting it happen. In mine, I see the pain of a choice I never should have had to make. It was supposed to be a solution, but instead, it became a wound that may never fully heal.