I was heartbroken when I uncovered my husband’s affair. The late-night messages, the sudden change in his behavior, the lies disguised as business meetings—it all came crashing down in one devastating moment. My world shattered, and for a while, I let the pain consume me. I cried until my body ached, questioning what I had done to deserve this betrayal.

But then, something inside me snapped. Why should I be the only one drowning in heartbreak while he carried on without a care? If he could break our vows so effortlessly, why should I be the only one playing by the rules?

So, I made a choice. Instead of confronting him with tears, I smiled. I pretended nothing had changed while I carefully planned my next move. It wasn’t long before I found myself in the arms of someone else—someone who actually saw me, desired me, and made me feel alive again. It wasn’t just about revenge; it was about reminding myself that I was still a woman, still wanted, still powerful.

And then, the day came. He found out. The man who had lied to my face for months suddenly couldn’t handle the truth. The hypocrisy was almost laughable. His rage was immediate—shouting, accusations, desperate attempts to shift the blame. But I just stood there, calm, unbothered.

“Oh, don’t be upset,” I said, tilting my head. “I just played your game. You just didn’t like losing.”