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T here’s always this little voice in the back of my head judging me.

I’d hear it ask things like: Why do you still have Eve’s number in your phone?

She slept with your husband! Why do you even care about her?

I wish I had it in me to not care. I really wanted to be the kind of person who knew how to ghost others and not feel guilty about it later.

The truth is, Cole and I were reaching the finish line way before he’d had sex with Eve.

Our marriage had only been going for two years and was already on the rocks.

I was working too much; he was working too little.

He’d gotten laid off from one of the top engineering companies in Charlotte and was trying to start up his own business.

Soon it’d gotten to a point where he was working way more than I was.

We weren’t making much time for each other.

In the beginning, it was so romantic. He’d send me flowers and take me out on dates.

We’d walk the boardwalk in University, and grab ice cream from Ninety’s.

We would hold hands and kiss until we were breathless.

A lot of that changed within a year. I couldn’t fully blame him for what he’d done with Eve.

Eve didn’t know at the time that I was thinking about moving out of the house. She had no idea that I was refusing to go home because I didn’t want to get into an argument with Cole over bills and money. She had no clue that he’d been drinking a lot more, that he was vulnerable, desperate, lonely.

But she’d made her choice. Instead of walking away, she let it happen.

She let my drunk husband come on to her, probably kiss her, then eventually fuck her on the couch I used to share with him.

The couch where he’d be watching some sports game and I’d have my head on his lap while reading a novel.

The couch where we dealt with losses and celebrated our wins.

The couch where we had the discussion that I needed some time to myself—that our marriage wasn’t working.

That we’d rushed into it and now I wasn’t sure what to do.

This wasn’t all on Eve. It was on Cole too. But for some reason, I was hurt by her the most.

Cole and I were drifting apart at the time of their affair, but I’d had it in the back of my mind that we’d be okay again.

That once we both had time to breathe and Cole gained some footing with his new business, we could have a nice dinner and a deep discussion about our future and move things along.

That all came crashing down when I came home one night for my laptop charger and saw them.

His pants around his ankles.

Her dress in a puddle on the floor.

Her lips red and raw.

His breaths ragged.

The flare of his nostrils.

Her apologetic, fear-filled eyes as she shoved him away and ran toward me, completely naked—and with the best fucking body ever, mind you. A body ten times better looking than mine. She exercised four times a week. I was lucky if I could squeeze in exercise four times a month.

I had nothing to say to either of them that night. I’d already been distancing myself from Eve because of her ridiculous actions, but this took the cake. We were done. I was done.

Instead of letting her plead her case, I backed out of the house and slammed the door. I got in my car and rushed to Best Buy before they closed so I could buy a new charger. While lying on a hotel bed that same night, I looked at apartment listings with puffy eyes.

I hadn’t talked to Eve since.