I Broke Her Heart, and Mine Too

It's been almost ten years. Ten years since I did the worst thing I've ever done, and I still can't sleep right some nights. Her name was Emily. We were in college, those hazy, stupid, beautiful years where everything feels possible and you think you're invincible. We were inseparable. Everyone said we were perfect for each other. And, honestly, we were. Or at least, we *could* have been.

I was young, though, and arrogant. I thought I knew everything. I got bored. That's the truth. I got bored with the routine, with the certainty. Emily was safe, and good, and loved me more than I probably deserved. And I... I wanted something else. I wanted the thrill of the chase, the uncertainty, the feeling of being desired by someone new.

So I cheated. With some random girl at a party. It was a drunken mistake, a moment of weakness, all the usual excuses. But it happened. And the guilt ate me alive from the inside out. I knew I should tell Emily, but I was a coward. I kept it hidden, buried deep down, hoping it would just go away.

Of course, it didn't. The secret festered, poisoning everything. I became distant, irritable. Emily noticed. She asked me what was wrong. I lied. I lied straight to her face, over and over again, until I barely recognized myself.

Eventually, she found out. I don't know how. Maybe someone told her, maybe she saw something on my phone. It doesn't matter. The point is, she knew. And the look on her face when she confronted me... I'll never forget it. It was a mixture of hurt, betrayal, and disbelief. Like I had physically punched her in the gut.

She didn't scream, she didn't yell. She just looked at me, those big, brown eyes filled with tears, and said, "How could you?" And then she walked away.

I tried to apologize, to explain. I begged her to forgive me. But she wouldn't listen. She was done. And I don't blame her. I ruined everything.

I've moved on, I guess. I have a wife now, a good life. But Emily... she's always there, in the back of my mind. A constant reminder of the terrible thing I did, of the person I was. I haven't spoken to her since that day. I don't even know where she is. But I hope, wherever she is, that she's happy. And I hope, someday, she can forgive me. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself.