- My wife finally confessed to me, though not the whole truth. Factors played into it—depression, stress from home life, discontent with me. Ironically, this came the night after we’d “happily” celebrated our first double-digit wedding anniversary. She knew the guy since she was 17, long before me. He was no “upgrade,” just another married man. Drinks flowed, defenses fell, and when he leaned in, she didn’t resist. Her niece even tried dissuading her from walking outside, sensing what might happen. She wasn’t that far gone on alcohol—she wanted release, a fleeting fantasy. In that moment, nothing mattered. Not our anniversary, not the kids, not tomorrow, and certainly not me.
- Then there’s the “older man”—B.B., a married lead tech supervisor in his 40s. She worked in customer service, admired his knowledge, his “Mr. Fix-it” role. She dropped his name often, even told my sister about a tech seminar: late-night drinks, then “just talking” in his hotel room. She denied intimacy, but her words, her niece, and my sister all believed otherwise. Marriage never guarantees faithfulness—sometimes, all it takes is common ground and a secret to share.
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