Cheating feels so much better when I’m mad at my husband. The anger fuels a reckless abandon, a desire to escape the suffocating resentment and find solace in someone else’s arms. Last night, after another heated argument, I texted an old flame.

We met at a discreet hotel, and the moment I saw him, the tension melted away. His touch, his kiss, everything felt intoxicatingly forbidden and thrilling. The guilt was overshadowed by the rush of defiance and the pleasure of being with someone who made me feel desired.

For a few hours, I forgot the pain and frustration of my marriage. I was reminded of what it felt like to be wanted, to be free. As I returned home, a part of me knew this wasn’t a solution, but the temporary escape felt like a lifeline amidst the chaos.