Finding out about his affair destroyed me. I could feel my heart shattering, piece by piece, as the weight of his betrayal settled in. I had trusted him with everything—my love, my life, my future—and he had discarded it all for a fleeting moment of selfishness. The shock was suffocating, and the pain ran so deep I didn’t know where to begin to heal. I questioned every moment we’d shared, every promise he’d made. How could I have been so blind? How could I have missed the signs?

For days, I wandered in a haze of disbelief, barely able to function. I wanted to confront him, to make him feel the hurt and heartbreak he had caused. But as the days passed, something within me shifted. I realized that no amount of confrontation or anger would bring me the justice I felt I deserved. I didn’t need to beg him to understand the depth of his betrayal—I needed to show him that I was no longer the woman he could hurt without consequences.

I gave him a taste of his own dishonesty.

Instead of confronting him head-on, I pulled away, distancing myself from his lies in a way that made him feel what I had been feeling all along. I became the one who was unavailable, the one who was emotionally distant, the one who was no longer there to cater to his needs. I didn’t just forgive him—I detached myself from the part of me that had trusted him so completely. I didn’t allow him to see the depth of my hurt because he had no right to see it.

I sought my own experiences, lived my life for myself, and showed him that I was stronger than his lies. It wasn’t about revenge—it was about reclaiming my dignity, my sense of self-worth. I wasn’t going to let him walk away thinking that his actions had no consequences. His dishonesty had hurt me, but now, it was his turn to feel the cold reality of what it meant to be on the other side of trust.

In the end, I realized that giving him a taste of his own medicine wasn’t about punishing him—it was about healing myself, and taking back control of my life.