I’m still devoted to my marriage. My husband and I have built a life together filled with memories, laughter, and love. He’s my partner, my confidant, the man who stood by me through all of life’s storms. But over the years, I’ve realized that being a wife—and everything that comes with it—has consumed so much of who I am. I’ve become defined by the roles I play: a wife, a caretaker, a support system. Somewhere along the way, the woman I used to be started to fade.

This isn’t about rejecting the life I’ve built or the love I have for him. It’s about creating a space that’s mine alone, a part of my world untouched by the weight of expectations and responsibilities. When I’m with him—the other man—I don’t feel the pressure to be anyone other than myself. He doesn’t see me as a wife or a label; he sees me. The woman with dreams and passions, the one who still loves to laugh, to explore, to feel desired and alive.

It’s not about replacing one love with another. It’s about reconnecting with myself, peeling back the layers of responsibility to find the woman underneath. The woman I thought I’d lost.

I know this choice isn’t simple or clean. It comes with risks, secrets, and sacrifices. But in those fleeting moments, I feel whole again. Beyond the titles I carry, beyond the roles I play, I am me. And for now, that’s enough.