I Messed Up Bad, Sarah

Okay, here goes nothing. I don't even know why I'm writing this. Maybe because I need to tell someone, anyone, even if it's just into the void. Maybe because I'm hoping for some kind of… I don't know… absolution? Probably not gonna happen. But here it is.

I cheated on my wife, Sarah. With her best friend, no less. I know, I know, it sounds like a bad soap opera, but it's my life. And I screwed it up royally. Her best friend, Amy, was always around. We all hung out together, did dinners, went to movies, the whole shebang. Sarah and Amy were like sisters. Always joking, always laughing, always finishing each other's sentences. I admired their friendship, I really did. I thought it was beautiful.

But somewhere along the line, things got… complicated. I started noticing Amy more. Her smile, the way she laughed at my stupid jokes, the way she always seemed to *get* me in a way Sarah didn't anymore. I know that sounds like a cliché, but it's true. Sarah and I had been together for twelve years. We were comfortable, maybe *too* comfortable. We'd fallen into a routine. The spark was gone, or at least, it was flickering pretty damn low. We barely talked anymore, not really talked. Just logistics: who's picking up the kids, what's for dinner, did you pay the bills. We were roommates, not lovers.

That's no excuse, I know. I should have talked to Sarah. I should have told her how I was feeling. I should have tried to fix things. But I didn't. I was a coward. It was easier to just… drift. And Amy was… there. She listened. She seemed to care. She made me feel alive again.

It started with harmless flirting, a little too much eye contact, a touch on the arm that lingered a little too long. Then came the late-night texts, the secret phone calls. I told myself it was just friendship, that I was just lonely. But deep down, I knew it was more. I was playing with fire. I knew I was hurting Sarah, even before anything physical happened. The guilt was eating me alive, but I kept going.

Then one night, after a party, we were all at our house, just the three of us. Sarah went to bed early, she said she had a headache. Amy and I stayed up, talking. Drinking. Too much drinking. One thing led to another, and… it happened. I don't even want to go into the details. It was a mistake. A horrible, devastating mistake. The worst thing I've ever done in my life.

I felt like I was going to throw up. The guilt was overwhelming. Amy left soon after. The next morning, I woke up with the worst hangover of my life, and a crushing weight on my chest. I knew I had to tell Sarah. I couldn't live with the lie. So I did. I sat her down, and I told her everything. Every. Single. Horrible. Detail.

She didn't scream. She didn't yell. She just stared at me, with this look of utter disbelief and heartbreak in her eyes. It was worse than any anger. She looked like I had punched her in the gut. Then, she started to cry. Silent, wrenching sobs that tore me apart inside. I wanted to take it back, to erase everything, to pretend it never happened. But I couldn't. The damage was done.

She asked me why. I tried to explain, but I didn't have any good answers. I told her I was unhappy, that I felt neglected. But those were just excuses. The truth is, I was weak. I was selfish. And I betrayed the two people who loved me the most.

She told me to leave. She said she never wanted to see me again. I packed my bags and moved out. I'm staying in a cheap motel on the other side of town. I feel like a ghost. Like I don't even deserve to be alive.

The worst part is, I miss her. I miss her laugh, her smile, the way she used to hold my hand. I miss our life together, even the boring parts. I miss being a family. I know I don't deserve her forgiveness, but God, I wish I could have it.

Amy hasn't called. I don't know if she feels guilty too, or if she just doesn't care. Maybe she's relieved it's over. I don't know. I don't care. I've lost everything. My wife, my kids, my home, my friends. All because of one stupid, selfish mistake.

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if Sarah will ever forgive me. I don't even know if I deserve to be forgiven. All I know is that I messed up. I messed up big time. And I don't know how to fix it. Writing this hasn't made me feel better, it actually made me feel worse. I have a good life and I threw it away.

Sarah, if you're somehow reading this, I am truly sorry. I am so, so sorry for hurting you. You didn't deserve any of this. You're a good woman, a wonderful mother, and a beautiful person. I was a fool to let you go. I hope someday, you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Even if I don't deserve it.

I don't know. Maybe there's still a tiny flicker of hope left. But right now, it feels pretty damn dark.