A Chance To Restore The Family: Love, Forgiveness, 2nd Chances. Cheating Stories, Infidelity Story

The incessant ringing of the phone penetrated my consciousness, pulling me back into the real world. Making my way through the fog of sleep, I reached out to the phone, picked up the receiver, and managed to squeeze out a short "hello." Trying to fully wake up, I could hear the shower running in the background. Taking a quick glance at the tangled pile of sheets on the other side of the bed, I realized that my partner from last night must be taking a shower.

"Don't hang up! Oh, please don't hang up. We need to talk," the voice on the other end of the line begged me to listen. A long pause, and then a faceless voice. "No, he didn't ask, but begged to find out if I was still here."

"Yes, I'm here. I guess we'll have to talk at some point, even if it's just to decide what to do about this mess."

The voice responded with a muffled sob and said quietly, "Can I come, please?" This place was like a cry for help. Hearing it, I almost gave up internally, feeling how it was tearing my heart and soul again. Then the memory of the pain and horror of the past three weeks returned, and with it, my rage and hatred for those who had caused me that pain.

"It's inconvenient now. Let's do it tomorrow at 16:00," my answer was short and sharp. I wanted to hurt the listener as much as possible, hoping that this would help ease my pain, although I knew that it would not help and could never help.

"You... you're not alone."

"Silence."

"Okay, then at 16:00. Silence."

"I guess I deserve it. I think it's all my fault." The phone went silent in my hand, but I managed to hear the last breath and sob. Feeling somewhat satisfied, I forcefully hung up.

"Damn those last words. It's my own fault." How many times have I heard them in the last three weeks? Only three weeks have passed since this nightmare began. Falling back onto the bed, I listened to the sound of the shower and let my mind go back to the beginning of this nightmare.

The party. Yes, that was the beginning. At least for me. For them, it started earlier. How much earlier, I did not know and had no great interest in finding out. Yes, a party. It started.

"Come on, honey, hurry up, otherwise we'll be late," Megan's voice cut through the steam of the hot shower. "I'll take the kids to their parents and be back in 30 minutes. Try to be ready for my return." It was one of those parties that just happens for no particular reason, just a few friends getting together at a barbecue.

Megan walked through the door right on schedule. I greeted her with a long, appraising gaze that took in every inch of her delicious body. A natural honey blonde, she grew her hair to mid-waist; they now cascaded around her head and shoulders, creating a golden glow that highlighted her beautiful oval face. The tight, pale blue tank showed off her 38D breasts, held in place by a lace bra, although, to be honest, she might not have worn a bra. Her breasts still defied gravity, jutting out proudly. Of course, for the past eight years, I've only seen her body. A thin waist hid the birth of our two children, flowing into a firm, round butt and two long legs covered in a short black skirt that reached mid-thigh. At 32, she looked 22, and she knew it. It was an appearance, but anyone who knows my wife knows that her mind is as sharp as a needle. No dumb blonde here. Megan can mentally match the best and usually comes out on top. This is what attracted me to her from the very beginning. It's hard to believe, but it's a fact.

"I'll drive," Megan said, waving her car keys in front of me. "And hurry up, remember that we need to pick up Sylvia on the way." Sylvia is Megan's best friend, although I have a hard time understanding why. Megan looks attractive and sophisticated, dressing to highlight her features, while Sylvia turns heads with skimpy clothing that puts her figure on display. Megan looks 22, although she is 32, and Sylvia, on the contrary, tries to look 22, although she is also 32. They have been friends for a long time. When Sylvia's marriage fell apart and ended in bitter divorce three years ago, Megan helped her pull herself together. "Get together" is the key word. During these three years, Sylvia tried to get every man she could get into bed. Sylvia had developed a reputation in our social circle, but despite this, or perhaps because of it, Megan continued to support her friend. Couples in our circle of friends consider her a walking man trap, which is not surprising since she has flirted with every man in the group and has been successful with many. I wasn't even safe. She has flirted with me several times in recent weeks, even though Megan is her best friend. Sylvia has been openly flirting with me, and just last night, she asked me to sleep with her. It didn't bother her that Megan was standing next to me. I just laughed and said that one hot woman was enough for me. I could never change Megan because I loved her too much to do anything that would harm our marriage. To be honest, I'm not attracted to Sylvia, although she's fun to be with. She's just not the type of woman I find sexually attractive.

Taking a quick glance at Megan, I noticed a strange look in her eyes as she looked at me and then at Sylvia before clearing her throat and asking if we would like to have another drink. This look was almost as if she was saying, "Go have sex with her. I don't care."

Over the past few weeks, our sexual rhythm has noticeably improved in both frequency and intensity, and last night was no exception. We had a great sex life before this. We made love three to four times a week when the urge arose, but now Megan initiated it almost every night, sometimes twice a night. Not that I'm complaining. The relationship between lovemaking and sex has clearly shifted towards the latter. I wondered what came over her.

As soon as Sylvia left, I started clearing away the glasses and plates. Megan returned after walking her to the door. "Let's leave this until the morning. I have more interesting plans," she said. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into her arms. Caught off guard, it took me a few seconds to respond in kind. Knowing the kids were sleeping upstairs, I decided to move the fun into our bedroom.

On the way to the party, I couldn't help but smile as we drove through the slowly darkening streets towards Sylvia's house, anticipating what would happen after the party. God, have I ever been wrong? When we picked up Sylvia, I took over the driving while the two girls sat in the back, whispering and giggling all the way to the party. Once there, we started circulating, and I didn't see much of them except when they came to refresh my drink. It seemed to become more frequent as the night went on, but I didn't mind, as Megan was driving home. For the first time, I could relax and have fun.

By 10 p.m., the party was in full swing. After dancing with Megan and Andy's wife, Fina, I soon realized I'd had too much to drink. I decided to slow down the drinking a bit and went in search of something to eat. Sylvia came up to me at the table with a new bottle of whiskey and started hugging me. "I need to go to the toilet while it's free," that was the best excuse I could come up with, and I ran out of the living room.

About ten minutes later, Megan found me hiding from Sylvia with Dave and Betty, my work friends. She handed me a fresh glass of whiskey, stood there for a few minutes, and left again.

"Don't tell Sylvia where I am," I said behind her as she walked away.

"Okay," Megan said, waving the glass over her shoulder at me.

After a few minutes, the tape began to take effect, and I began to feel tired. "I'm a happy drunk. I usually just curl up and sleep it off," which is exactly what I wanted to do right now. Heading to the back porch, I curled up on the old couch and quickly dozed off.

I woke up the next morning in bed, feeling Megan next to me. Stunned, I gasped. "What the...?" It definitely wasn't Megan. Fully awake, I stared straight into Sylvia's smiling face. "Good morning, lover. Ready for a repeat?" Anyone watching me would have thought I had been stabbed. I abruptly pulled away from her, trying to get out of bed, but the damned sheets got tangled on my legs, preventing me from getting up quickly. I needed time to understand what was happening. Collecting my thoughts, I looked around and realized that I was not in my bedroom.

"What happened, Jack?" asked Sylvia. "What am I doing here? Where is Megan?" In a panic, I jumped out of bed and began to look for my clothes, finding them neatly folded on a chair at the foot of the bed.

"Megan felt unwell and left the party early. I offered to look after you. I hope I did it," Sylvia replied.

"What do you mean?" I asked, horrified by the upcoming answer.

"Well, I know you've had a little too much, but don't tell me you don't remember us having sex last night?" she laughed. "Or rather, this morning. I already thought that you would never stop, although I won't say that I'm complaining."

Horrified, I stuttered, "But I'm married! We can't! We shouldn't!"

"It's too late for that, lover. Now, how about we review before you go home?" she suggested with a smile. I quickly grabbed my clothes and headed into the living room to get dressed. As I put on my jeans, I saw Sylvia appear in the room with nothing but a smile on her face.

"Thank you for last night, lover. We should definitely do it again," she said, leaning in to kiss me on the lips. I managed to dodge by turning my head so that her kiss landed on my cheek. At that moment, the phone rang. Sylvia answered, giving me a chance to leave unnoticed.

When I was almost to the door, she said, "Of course, Megan. He's here. I'll call him now." I returned to the room, and Sylvia handed me the phone, smiling and walking back into the bedroom, swaying her hips as if inviting me.

"Hi, Megan, I..." I started, but suddenly anger came at me through the phone. Her scream pierced me to the core. "How could you, you bastard! And with her! I knew you were up to something because of how you acted around each other." Her voice became quieter, full of pain. "I don't even want to talk to you." And with that, she hung up.

Sylvia returned, putting on her robe. "Megan doesn't seem too happy this morning," she chuckled as I slumped down in my chair.

"What have I done?" I asked, not expecting an answer. This was a question not only for Sylvia but also for myself. I didn't really remember what happened last night after I fell asleep on the couch.

"Men are men. Megan will understand everything in time, but remember, no matter what happens, it's your own fault," said Sylvia. "Now, since you're already in [ __ ] why don't you go back to bed and have some fun? It will still cost you dearly, you should get at least something in return."

"No, thank you. I need time to think. I'll go home and try to work things out with Megan. I hope she forgives me."

"Oh, she will forgive. Just give her time. She really loves you, just don't forget about it," she said.

Finally, after leaving her house, I wondered what she meant when she said it would cost me dearly. The short drive home didn't give me enough time; time to sort myself out, and eternity probably wouldn't be enough. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see a suitcase by the door and Megan sitting in a chair, looking at me. There were no tears or pain in her eyes, only a cold, stony look.

"Megan," her voice was hard, squeaky. "You bastard, how could you? And with my best friend! I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you until I think it over." Pausing, she pointed to the suitcase. "I packed your clothes and shaving supplies. Everything is in this suitcase. Go away before I say something I'll regret," she blurted out, pointing to the door. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry, her composure breaking.

"I don't know what happened," I started, but Megan interrupted me by screaming, telling me to just leave. "Go to this woman of easy virtue, why not?" Grabbing my suitcase and car keys from the nightstand, I left the house and, it seemed, a happy marriage. At least that's how it felt. How can Megan forgive me? I myself could not forgive myself for breaking my marriage vows. Once at the door, I turned around, looked at my beautiful wife sitting there, and quietly said, "I love you," and then closed the door behind me.

I drove around the city for a long time until I realized how tired I was. We needed to find a place to spend the night. Even though it was only 2:00 in the afternoon, I felt like I hadn't slept in days. According to Sylvia, I didn't really sleep much last night. Stopping at the first motel I came across, I rented a room for a week. It was easy to get settled. I threw my suitcase into the corner and fell on the bed. I soon fell into a restless sleep.

A few hours later, I woke up in a cold sweat after a nightmare. I dreamed that I was chasing Sylvia through the park. I wanted to run away from her, but at the same time, something magnetically attracted me to her. Looking at my watch, I saw that it was only 7 in the evening. I felt even worse than before I slept. I hadn't eaten all day, so I grabbed my wallet and went looking for something decent that wasn't fast food. As I walked past the bar, I decided that a few drinks would help me calm down a little and clear up the fog in my head. After four glasses of whiskey, I did not feel any relief, and now I was also beginning to reproach myself for my own stupidity. How could I? Why did I? What am I? So many questions, but no real answers. I could have accepted this if I had been unhappy in my marriage or felt intensely attracted to Sylvia, but neither of those things was true. I desperately wanted to talk to Megan, to curl up in her arms and make it all go away, but I knew that was impossible. Torn between whether to call her or not, I chickened out and decided to leave it until the next day. I didn't want to irritate her, and I drank a little instead. I went to bed and fell into a coma-like sleep.

On Monday morning, I couldn't go to work. I called and said I wasn't feeling well and needed to take a few days off. This was not a problem since I rarely took days off, although when I thought about it, I couldn't remember the last time I didn't go to work. I called Megan in the middle of the morning, but every time I got to voicemail. The same story repeated itself. All Monday and Tuesday, I left messages indicating where I could be found, but they brought no results. By Wednesday, I was ready to go home, worried that she might do something drastic. The guilt and guilt only grew stronger. What would I do if I lost her? Could I live with myself? At some point, I even thought about death as a possible way out. Despite my depression and low self-esteem, I still hoped that I could win her back. I was ready to do anything to regain her trust and love.

On Wednesday morning, the motel phone rang, and I picked it up, hoping it was her. Megan's voice was cold, but not as angry as I expected. "I've made some decisions, and we need to talk. Come home this afternoon."

"Yes, sure. How are you and the children?"

"We're fine. See you this afternoon." And with that, she hung up. What did she decide? Divorce seemed like the only option, and honestly, I couldn't blame her. My imagination was running wild, coming up with worst-case scenarios.

When I arrived at the house, I looked and felt, to put it mildly, terrible. Megan led me into the living room and started talking. "I'm not going to divorce you, although I've thought about it. For the sake of the children and for the sake of the eight years we spent together, I want to try to make things right, if possible. But this is your only chance, and it won't be easy."

With the weight lifted from my heart, I responded as best I could. "I love you. I will do everything to fix what happened between us."

"It's easy to say, but when you hear my terms, you might not think so," Megan replied. Once again, there was that strange look in her eyes that I had seen that night when Sylvia offered herself to me, right in front of her.

"I don't care what the conditions are. I agree to everything, as long as you forgive what I did to you, to us," I insisted.

Megan was silent for several seconds. I saw her nervously fiddling with something in her hands, looking at the floor, avoiding meeting my gaze. Finally, she spoke. "For starters, you can come home tomorrow, but you will sleep in a separate room until I decide that you can return to our bedroom. I want to forgive you, but the only way I can do that is to get my revenge for this. I am going to have an affair."

Her words hit me like a truck, knocking me off my feet and leaving me breathless. I tried to say something, but she continued. "I haven't decided who it will be or how it will happen yet, but when I do, I don't want you to interfere. You must accept this if you want us to continue living together, otherwise, we can end everything right now. I'll let you know when it's over. I don't know how long this will last. Do you agree?"

All I could do was sit glued to the chair with a heavy stone on my chest that prevented me from breathing and an icy hand tearing my heart. I didn't trust myself to speak as tears began to appear in my eyes from the full realization of what I had done and what I would now have to endure in order to keep this woman whom I loved so deeply. Megan looked at me for a moment. I thought I saw a touch of compassion flash in her eyes; perhaps I just saw what I wanted to see and not what actually happened.

"Well, do you agree or not?" this time her voice was not so confident, a tinge of fear seemed to creep into it.

"Yes, I agree," I choked. I wanted to vomit. Unable to bear it any longer, I got up and left. Before returning to the motel, I went to the bar and bought a bottle of 12-year-old single malt whiskey. If I have to live through this, I'll need all the courage I can muster, even if it's just artificial courage.

When I got to my room, there was a note under the door saying that my wife had called me and asked me to call back. Throwing the bottle on the bed, I dialed our house number. I cherished a faint hope that she would change her mind, that she would not be able to go through with it. On the third ring, Megan answered, and I thought there was some softness in her voice again.

"Are you okay? You left so quickly that I didn't know what to think. I was worried you might have done something stupid."

"No, everything is fine. I really thought it would be better for me to die, but I guess I'm not man enough for that either. Don't worry about me, everything will be fine. See you tomorrow. Remember, I love you, but it's all your fault," Megan whispered quietly before hanging up. I looked at the silent receiver, tears streaming down my face. For the first time in my life, I felt a true sense of complete helplessness.

I returned home, and things were tense for the next few days, but at least there was no screaming. The children did not know what was happening; they behaved as usual, and for their sake, we also tried to behave normally. I returned to work on Monday, but I was having a hard time concentrating, and my productivity was suffering. Dave noticed this and asked several times if I was okay. Not wanting to admit what I had done, I said that it was simply the aftereffects of the illness I had suffered from the previous week. He seemed to believe it but continued to watch me.

On Thursday, after the kids had gone to bed, Megan called me into the kitchen to tell me some bad news.

"Everything is planned for Saturday evening," I asked.

"The parents to babysit," Megan muttered, avoiding my eyes. "Steve is coming at 6:00 in the evening, and we will need some privacy. You can stay in your room or leave."

"Steve? Is Steve Adams, really? From the club? Not him?" My protest sounded pitiful, even to me. Steve Adams was a famous lady's man; his exploits were legendary. He was the male equivalent of Sylvia.

"You agreed that you would accept my choice, and now you have no right to vote," Megan sharply stopped my objections with these words. She stood up and went to her room.

On Friday at work, I was so caught up in my self-flagellation that I couldn't even do the simplest tasks. At 11 a.m., I told Dave I was taking an early lunch since I had some work to do and headed to the mall. Maybe some fresh air will help. Walking into the center, I decided I needed coffee, and the best coffee was at Clyde's Cafe. Everyone went there, so I went there too. Looking through the window before entering, I was surprised to see Sylvia at one of the tables. She was the last person I wanted to see. I was about to leave, but I noticed Megan approach her table. Thinking that things might get ugly, I decided to stick around in case I had to intervene. To my surprise, Megan greeted Sylvia with a kiss on the cheek and sat next to her. They chatted and laughed for half an hour, and then left together. I didn't know what to think. I returned to work, reflecting on what I had seen. It looks like they made up and are probably blaming me for everything now. Unfair, but I was in no position to complain. Megan made it clear that she no longer intended to discuss this with me. Seeing them together reminded me of old times, and a faint hope arose in my heart. If they could make peace, then maybe Megan and I have a chance too.

Saturday came all too quickly, and I was given the role of taking the kids to their grandparents while Megan prepared for Steve's visit. She ran around the house doing her nails, styling her hair, picking out outfits, and then changing them for others. As 6:00 approached, I couldn't stand it, so I went to my room and tried to distract myself with reading. As I stood up to leave, Megan reminded me, "Don't forget, you brought this on yourself."

A few minutes later, I heard Steve arrive. At first, I heard muffled conversations, then laughter. Half an hour seemed like an eternity before I heard them go upstairs, and the door to our bedroom creaked and then closed. Now I knew what it was like to wait for the second blow to strike. My heart was pounding, and my head was throbbing with tension as I imagined what they were doing there behind the closed door. We didn't have to wait long. I was emotionally destroyed and desperately needed support. Risking that they would simply kick me out, I knocked on the door. Betty opened it, and looking at me, grabbed my hand and dragged me into the living room where Dave was sitting. Unable to contain myself any longer, I gave vent to my feelings and burst into tears.

After a few minutes, I came to my senses a little, apologized to both of them, and got up to leave. Dave sat me back in the chair and said, "You're not going anywhere until we sort this out. Now sit down, and I'll get you a drink." When the double whiskey burned my stomach, I felt a little better and decided that if anyone needed relief, it would be Dave and Betty. I knew Dave for 15 years, and he was always a good friend to me. Slowly, I explained to them the whole messy situation, ending with the fact that tonight I pushed Megan into doing what she did. They both listened to me in silence, and when I finished, the silence was deafening. I noticed Dave gave Betty a look that seemed to say, "What do we do now?"

"Jack, I don't understand how what you told us is possible. To begin with, you were so drunk at the party that you couldn't have sex with anyone," Betty chimed in. "You were so passed out that Megan and Sylvia had to drag you to the car to take you home." I felt dizzy because what they were saying didn't make any sense. Megan had already left; she couldn't take me home.

"Are you sure it was Megan and Sylvia?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Dave replied. "I even held the door open when they carried you out."

"Jack, I think you've been set up," Betty added. "Earlier in the evening, I went outside to get some rest and sat under the upper terrace, smoking. Sylvia and Megan came out onto the terrace above me, and I heard them talking." Looking to Dave for support, Betty continued, "Sylvia told Megan that he doesn't bite, even when he's drunk. Megan replied that then we need to move on to plan B." I thought that they were going to set someone else up, probably one of Sylvia's guys. I couldn't even think that we were talking about you."

As all of this started to sink in, the things I was questioning started to come together. Megan tried to get me to cheat on her, and Sylvia actively instigated me for several weeks in a row. When I didn't give in, they decided to get me drunk so she could seduce me. That's why they kept bringing me new drinks that night, but even then, I didn't give up, and they made me believe that I had cheated on Megan. She knew that guilt would make me do whatever she wanted, even if I hated the thought of it. But why? What did she get in return? Stupid question. She was getting it right now, with Steve in our bed.

As I continued to think about it, my first instinct was to go home and accuse them of cheating. I was so angry that I knew that if I went there, I might hurt them both. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of being put in jail while they continued theirs. My early wave of self-pity gave way to hot, furious hatred, and then to controlled anger. I wanted revenge. Dave and I began to develop a plan. After swearing Dave and Betty to secrecy, at least for the time being, we began to piece together what we knew. They probably put something in my last drink, possibly the sleeping pills Sil took after her divorce. The suitcase that was waiting for me at home was already packed, neat and clean. I was only 10 minutes away, not long enough to pack it up unless Megan had packed the night before. After helping Sylvia tuck me into her bed, both women took me to Sylvia's apartment, undressed me, and put me to bed. Megan has always been neat; she folded my clothes and put them on the chair. If I had been as drunk as they said, I certainly wouldn't have been able to do it myself, and Sylvia probably wouldn't have folded her clothes. In the heat of the moment, when they met in a cafe, they did not make up but discussed the next step in this scam. They simply mocked me, having successfully deceived me. Megan probably listened to Sylvia's stories about her adventures with different men. Clearly, Megan began to wonder what it would be like to have another man and hatched a plan to test it out. "Why doesn't she just have an affair?" Megan knew that if I found out, she would lose everything, including me. She didn't want to take any chances, so she decided that if I believed it was my fault, then she could have fun without risking repercussions. Hence the constant reminders that I brought all this on myself. Megan knew I was a proud person and bet that I would be too embarrassed to tell my friends what happened. Dave mentioned that Steve had been walking around the club for weeks and hinting that he was about to sleep with the woman he had been pursuing for months. He started talking about it before the party, so Steve was aware of everything.

"Well, he'll get what he deserves, just like everyone else." I had little evidence. If I went to them, they would deny everything, accusing me of trying to blame others. I needed ironclad proof, and I knew how to get it. First, I had to make sure they didn't suspect that I knew about their plan. Dave let me stay the night, and I went home on Sunday, calling first to make sure Steve was gone. As soon as I walked in, Megan started screaming. "Where have you been? I was going crazy with worry! You were with her again, weren't you?" She was smart and took advantage of every opportunity. She knew I wasn't with Sylvia since that's the first place she would call.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I couldn't bear to listen to you two doing this, so I drove around the city and then fell asleep in the car." After that, she calmed down a little and went into the kitchen, while I took a shower and changed clothes. Things remained tense for the next few days, but I was too busy executing my plan to worry about it.

On Wednesday evening, I wiretapped her home phone and hid her mobile phone so that she would make all calls only through a landline phone where they could be recorded. I decided that spending $300 at the local electronics store would be worth it if everything worked as intended. On Thursday morning, I called both Megan and Sylvia from work. I told them I wanted to make peace with both of them. I explained that I felt guilty for coming between them and it was my fault that their friendship had suffered. Playing the part of the unhappy husband to the end, I told them that I had made a reservation for Friday night at Bernie's restaurant, an upscale establishment on the other side of town. It was at this restaurant that I proposed to Megan many years ago. I explained that I thought Megan would be busy with Steve on Saturday, so Friday was the only possible day. I even hinted that I had a surprise for both of them that they would definitely like.

"Yes, sure."

When everyone was asleep, I took the recording devices out of hiding and activated them. After listening to the recording, I soon heard Sylvia's voice when she called Megan to find out what was going on. As soon as I heard their conversation, I knew I had the proof I needed, and more.

"Sylvia, Megan, what do you think he's up to? Does he suspect something?"

"Megan: No, he's just upset with me and Steve, and he's trying to make amends so I can forgive him and not see Steve again."

"Sylvia: Are you going to see Steve again? How did it go? Was everything as good as I told you?"

"Megan: I guess I'll meet him again. Everything went fine, the sex was great, but I was upset when I realized that Jack had left. I thought he was gone forever, or maybe he did something stupid and hurt himself. I still love him and don't want to lose him. When he came back on Sunday, I almost told him it was over and that I forgave him, but he seemed so resigned to what was happening that I decided to continue for a while longer and then tell him that I had my revenge and it was time to move on."

"Sylvia: Steve was amazing, wasn't he? He knows how to please a woman, and he has the means to do it."

"Megan: Steve was good, like I said, the sex was great, but I can't say he's a better lover than Jack. I think it's just something new and exciting, and also the fact that I know it's wrong."

"Sylvia: Well, let's see. Remember you promised me that you would let me try what Jack has. Tell him you want to see what he found so attractive in me that he cheated on you. Tell him you want him to have sex with me, and you watch."

"Megan: God, I don't know if I can watch him do this to you. I know I owe him this, but it will hurt me to see it. But still, I promised, so I think if I got what I wanted, you should too."

"Sylvia: We'll talk about this later. What will you wear to dinner?" The rest of the conversation was about ordinary things.

I spent Friday making sure everything was going according to plan. I didn't want any disruptions. Arriving home early to prepare for dinner at the restaurant, I felt a smile on my face for the first time in a long time.

"Why are you so happy? You're not out of this yet. Dinner at a fancy restaurant won't fix what you did," Megan snapped as she went upstairs to take a shower. I picked up the kids and told Megan I would take them to my mother's for the night so we wouldn't have to rush home. When I got home, I quickly showered and put on my best suit, trying to look perfect. As Megan walked down the stairs, I looked at the woman I had once loved to death, the mother of my children. I knew that this might be the last time I would see her like this, and my heart sank. Putting the pain aside, I waved the keys and said that I would drive the car. I told Sylvia that we'll pick her up, but if you're uncomfortable, I can call her a taxi.

"No, everything is fine. Just let her sit in the back. I'll sit in the front with you," she continued to play her role until the end. Unlike the ride to the party, this ride was in complete silence. Arriving at the restaurant, we were quickly shown to a table. I pretended to happily order drinks, as if trying to impress them. The waiter soon took our orders, and we selected the best dishes. I even ordered a bottle of the best champagne to toast with. As I handed out glasses of champagne, I apologized, saying that I needed to check on the surprises. I took a sip of the wine, and the sharpness mixed with the bubbles brought back fond memories of happier times. Pushing these thoughts aside, I said, "I'll be back in a few minutes." Two people were waiting for me in the lobby. I seated them a few tables away from us, but close enough that they could come on my signal. The food was excellent, the service impeccable, but I couldn't enjoy anything. The realization of why we were here filled me with sadness, and all my smiles were forced. The ladies decided to wait for dessert, so I took the opportunity to refill our glasses. Taking a sip from mine, I began my prepared speech.

"The last three weeks have been the hardest of my life. I blamed myself for stupidity and behavior that I would never forgive others." Megan opened her mouth to say something, but I stopped her with a gesture. "Please, just listen for now. You will be given a chance to speak later." As I said, my pain was unimaginable. Several times, I even thought about death as a possible solution. But both women's jaws dropped. I don't think they realized how much pain they caused me and how desperate I was. Luckily, I have good friends who helped me through it. They opened my eyes to the truth. Yes, now I know that it was not my fault. Both of you set me up."

Both women were stunned, and Megan finished the wine in one go. I quickly explained what I had seen and learned, ending with a story of the recorded telephone conversation. By this time, Megan was in a state of deep shock, and Sylvia looked guilty. Taking a bottle of wine from the ice bucket, I poured each other a glass, placing the empty bottle on the table, signaling to the first of my surprises. I pulled out a small ring box from my pocket and handed it to Megan.

"Like I said, I have gifts for you, and this is the first one." Still in shock, she opened the box and found my engagement ring. Taking her left hand, I took off both of her rings and put them in my pocket. "I gave you these rings as a symbol of our loyalty to each other. You don't deserve to wear them anymore. Maybe Steve will give you a ring, although I doubt his wife will approve."

At that moment, a voice was heard at her elbow. "Megan?"

"Right," Megan turned and muttered. "Yes." The elderly man handed her a large envelope, said that she had received the notification, nodded, and left.

I continued in a stern voice. "These are the divorce papers my lawyer prepared this week. You will find that I have not been very generous. In fact, I asked for everything possible, including custody of the children. All joint accounts were closed this afternoon, and credit cards canceled. After what you did, we don't exist anymore. There's only me."

After this, Megan finally broke down and started crying. Huge tears flowed down her cheeks, dripped onto her bare chest, and flowed into the neckline of her dress. Her sobs seemed to come from the very depths of her soul. It's funny what thoughts come to you at moments like this. I suddenly thought that if she cried long enough, her tears would stain this lace bra. Shaking my head to rid myself of these thoughts, I continued.

"Our marriage is over. I hope it was worth it. Now you can have sex with whoever you want without being inconvenienced by your husband or children." Having summoned the last surprise, I continued. "I used your same tactics and packed a suitcase for you. Not so carefully, but the main thing is attention. The locks on our house are being changed, so if you need anything, call ahead."

At that moment, Mary, my ex-girlfriend from college, placed the suitcase on the table in front of Megan. Megan suddenly raised her head and saw her standing next to her. I didn't think she could get any more shocked, but Megan surprised me again by completely losing the last traces of color on her face.

"No! Not her! Please, Jack, not with her! I'm so sorry, but we can make things right. I love you. You should know that what I did was stupid and selfish. I don't love him, only you, Jack."

"Megan, you no longer have the right to object to who I see and communicate with," I interrupted her. "I remember I told you the same thing about Steve, and what did my dear wife do? She didn't listen to me."

"Me," Mary intervened. "Don't worry, Megan. I'll take care of him for you." Mary's smile only added to the agony Megan was feeling. Perhaps now she realized how much she had hurt me and how much she had lost.

Smugly, I continued. "I don't think Stevie will be too happy with you. Dave will give his wife all the evidence I've collected. I know she suspected him of cheating, but now she will have all the proof she needs. If she has even a drop of pride, she will divorce him, but that's her business."

Having finished my glass, I mustered up the courage for the last act. "Sylvia, there is not much I can say or do to you for your role in this, but this will ease my feelings a little." Grabbing a bucket of ice, I poured its contents over her head, soaking her through and ruining her expensive dress. Her squeals could be heard throughout the restaurant, guaranteeing her complete humiliation. Taking Mary's hand, I turned to leave. Turning around, I said the last words. "Oh yes, Sylvia, the table is reserved in your name, so the entire bill is on you, in every sense. And remember, Megan, you brought this on yourself."

My eyes filled with tears as I left. My world collapsed along with my marriage. I ran out of the restaurant, running into a young couple who were coming inside. "Drunk idiot!" I heard the door close behind me.

At home, I had sex with Mary. Maybe it wouldn't be that hard to go through with it all, but deep down, I still wished it was Megan, and that it was all just a bad dream.

Sunday morning passed, and I still could not comprehend what had happened. Megan was due to arrive at 4:00, and I wasn't sure what I would say to her or how I would react when I saw her. As I wandered around the house, I realized that I hadn't spoken to my kids since our breakup on Friday night, and I became desperate to see them, to hug them. They were the last link between Megan and me, the last part of our life together. I delayed the unpleasant responsibility of telling them about our breakup. I knew it would devastate them. Since Megan was due to arrive soon, and there was a possibility of an unpleasant conversation or argument, I decided it was best to leave the children with my parents. As I reached for the phone to call my mother, it rang sharply, and it scared me. It took me a few seconds to collect my thoughts and answer the call. My voice was as dull and lifeless as myself.

"Yes?"

"Jack? Right, Jack. This is Sylvia. We need to talk." My voice became hard and unfriendly. I answered with the only thing that came to mind. Hatred for this woman sounded in every word.

"I have nothing to tell you, [ __ ]." I hung up and stared at her. Not the wittiest expression, and not the original one, but it reflected the depth of my feeling, which was the only way I could express it.

A few seconds later, the phone rang again, but this time I let the answering machine pick up. "Jack, this is Sylvia. Pick up the phone, please. I know you're there." Her voice sounded through the hiss of the answering machine. Then she spoke again, pleading. "Please, Jack, I need to talk to you about Megan." Her last words hit me as I closed the bathroom door. I felt the rage begin to boil inside me again. This creature helped destroy my marriage, deprived my children of their mother, set me up, and now she expected me to talk to her? Yes, it wouldn't be so, only if hell freezes over. I needed a shower. Just the thought of it made me feel dirty. I wanted to wash her even from my memories. All the stress of the last few weeks had left me feeling drained and tired. Hoping to relax my exhausted body and mind a little, I decided to take a hot tub. As I filled the water, I saw Megan's oils and salts neatly arranged along the side of the tub, awaiting her return. Her scent was everywhere, from the light aroma of her oils and bubble bath to the more pungent scent of her mouthwash. Our, or rather, my bedroom was saturated with her personal aroma and her perfume. I felt empty and lonely. I missed her laughter and smile. The intimacy we shared for eight years was something many couples never get to experience. Now I have lost her, and it has deprived me of the meaning of life. And yet, the very thought of her made me furious, far greater than ever before. The usual sounds outside the window began to penetrate my consciousness. Someone was mowing the lawn, a car drove by, and children were playing in the yard. Steam filled the room, and as I calmed down, my senses began to register what was happening. I relaxed and sank into the water. The bath relieved the pain in my body, and my thoughts went back to Saturday and Mary, my ex-girlfriend, who helped me. Her attention on Friday night satisfied my immediate needs, or at least helped me carry out my revenge plan, but it was a hollow victory. Saturday turned out to be a repeat, except that the sex was less hectic, and we felt the same sense of intimacy again. But this was not lovemaking, and not just sex; it was sex for sex's sake. By midday, we both knew it wasn't going to work. There was no passion, no fireworks. Even the attraction that once connected us weakened over time. We became different. We were no longer who we were before. Mary was lying next to me on the bed, smiling. She said, "Well, what now? Shall we shake hands and go our separate ways before things get even more awkward?" How to answer such a question? We were silent for the last 10 minutes, barely looking at each other. I turned to face her, and at that moment, accepted my reality. She lay in my arms, and I casually fingered her blonde hair on her shoulder. There was no denying that she was still beautiful with age; her self-confidence and her figure became even more attractive. Clearing my...

Throat. I stated the obvious. I don't know what to say. It was wonderful, but the spark that was there before is no longer there. Maybe in time, when I outlive Megan, who knows?

Taking her face by the chin, I brought it closer to mine and gently kissed her on the lips. It was a kiss full of friendship and care, but lacking the love and passion it once had. Unlike sex with Megan, which was mostly for her pleasure, time with Mary was purely for my satisfaction. When I realized this, I was overcome with sadness. I used it in ways I shouldn't have. She was someone I considered a close friend, someone who was willing to help me in a time of need. I had used it, and now it seemed like I was just throwing it overboard. My offer of time to get over Megan was just to ease my conscience. Even now, I was thinking more about myself than about Mary and her feelings.

"Mary," I never, I began. She put her fingers to my lips, silencing me. Compassion and care shone in her eyes. Her voice was quiet. "Don't say that. I know how you feel because I once lost the person I loved with all my soul. He left, and I was too weak to fight for him. I moved on, as did he. I still love him and would do anything to be there for him if needed, but I also know that I am no longer in love with him, just like he is with me."

A tear ran from her left eye, ran down her cheek, and disappeared under her chin. She made no attempt to wipe it away, but instead continued, "It's time to move on. This was all very special to me, and I will always remember it. I wanted so much when we were together, and I left you to find it. But when I found it, I realized that this was not what I expected. I felt her sigh. I came back to you knowing that you would always be there. You took me back and never asked questions. Sometimes I wanted you to ask them, but I didn't know if I could answer them honestly. You must have heard the rumors, but your love for me was so strong that you ignored them."

Tears now flowed freely down her cheeks, and with each drop, her guilt went away. "I betrayed this trust so many, many times, but you never betrayed me. You never let me down like I did you. Now it's my time to give you some of that love back. I know you feel guilty about last night and this morning. That's what I've always liked about you, your morals. Megan loved it too and was willing to fight for you when I couldn't. You never asked what we talked about when we met back then, giving us the privacy we needed. But now, I think you should know this."

I didn't want to listen to this and told her, "Mary, you don't need to tell me. You've already done enough, and I appreciate everything you've done and said. I feel better because of you, and I truly love you as a special person in my life."

"Please don't interrupt. I need to talk it out to feel better." Her voice was decisive, leaving me in no doubt that she really wanted to continue. "Megan came to me then to warn me, more precisely, she came to blackmail me into leaving you alone and giving her a chance to be with you. We argued, and I refused. I knew that if I asked, you would take me back again, just like always. Megan knew this too and decided to slightly adjust the circumstances in her favor. She ended up putting me in an even worse situation."

Mary stopped crying and pulled back to look me in the eyes. There was an expression of worry on her face, as if she was preparing herself for what was to come. Her voice trembled as she continued, "I tried to get Megan interested in other guys by arranging for her to meet the ones I was dating. She didn't even look at them twice. It soon became clear that she truly loved you, and more importantly, you loved her. She asked me if she gave up on you, would I be able to stop cheating?"

She began to speak even faster, as if the words were flowing out of her like machine gun fire. "Yes, exactly." I hesitated before answering, and that was all she needed. "She said that if I have to think about it, then I don't deserve you. Megan said she knows I had the procedure done to get rid of my pregnancy, and she'll tell you if I don't leave you alone."

Mary's voice gradually faded to a whisper, and I had to listen carefully to catch the last words. "What procedure? I never knew about any of this," I replied, stunned by her admission. "I got pregnant while we were together but found out about it after our breakup. I was dating a guy from the hockey team at the time, and I was afraid that if he found out about the pregnancy, he would leave me. I went to the clinic and did this to be with him, but he still left me. Somehow, Sylvia found out about this and told Megan. I knew you would be angry, so I let her have you instead of admitting what I did."

Mary buried her face in my chest, crying uncontrollably. "Why? Why didn't you tell me earlier? My world has become even more terrible. Why do I need all this?" Another wave of self-pity rolled in as Mary lay in my arms, her body shaking with sobs. My accusation, expressed in words, offended me. How might this affect Mary? I immediately felt regret and decided to make amends. I did the only thing I could. He gently stroked her hair and whispered in her ear, "I understand and forgive you. You've been carrying this guilt around for too long. I don't know how I would have reacted then, but I know that it's all in the past, and that's how it should stay. That was 9 years ago. It's time to forgive yourself. Even if you don't, I won't leave you. You are too important to me to lose."

"Your friendship!" Mary threw herself on my neck and hugged me tightly, covering my face with kisses. There were notes of happiness in her voice. "I've been imagining this conversation for years, and I always thought it would end with you hating me and telling me you don't want to see me anymore. That's why I couldn't tell you. I never expected you to be able to forgive me."

Mary paused to collect her thoughts and then turned her attention to me. With the entire lecture, her voice acquired a power that I had not heard for a long time. "Now, listen to me, Jack Wright. If you can forgive me so easily, then you should consider extending the same compassion to the woman you truly love."

I shook my head in disagreement. "It's not the same thing. She cheated on me and destroyed my trust in her. You and I were not married, and all this was so long ago."

Mary continued her lecture firmly rebuffing all my objections. This determination reminded me of the times when she got something out of me. Mary usually always got her way. "We both cheated on you, and I cheated on you more than she did. Every time, you have forgiven me. Now it's time to do the same for her, if, of course, you truly love her. Time heals wounds, but you just found out you're pregnant, so you can't use that argument. It's as fresh for you as if it happened yesterday. I saw it in your eyes and felt it in your body. You still want her, not me. She fought for you once, shouldn't you do the same for her?"

"You're right. I still love her, at least part of me, but I'm not sure I can forgive her. I know that I will never forget, and this will destroy us."

"No, your marriage will fail if you are not willing to put in the effort to save it. Of course, you will never forget, and neither will she, but you can put it into proper perspective. Consider what you can lose and what you can keep. Think about the children, how their needs and feelings will be affected."

Her last words hurt me again, causing me to feel guilty. "Mary, it's not fair to bring children into this. I thought about their needs, but how would this help them if their parents constantly argue or worse, stop talking altogether? What example will this set for them? How will this help them? What if she continues to bring other men into the house? I can't handle this and I shouldn't."

A loud knock on the door interrupted our conversation. "Damn, I wonder who it is. I wasn't expecting anyone." Pulling on my pants, I got out of bed. While I was getting dressed, the knocking continued, inexorable and demanding. "Okay, I'm coming. Wait a minute," I said with irritation in my voice. As I walked down the stairs, I noticed a large shadow behind the frosted glass of the door. The painted glass gave it a sepia tone. I knew it had to be Steve, coming to take revenge for what I had done. I had already decided what I would do if it came to a conflict, and I was ready. Time and movements slowed as I approached the door, bracing myself for the inevitable. Everything that was happening began to seem unreal. Steve weighed 30 lbs more than me and was a good 3 inches taller than my 5'10". I knew he trained and played football in college, so he wouldn't be an easy target. My advantage was anger and surprise. He always thought of me as a bit of a wimp because of my calm nature and wouldn't expect me to react aggressively. This should have been his undoing.

When I opened the door, I saw Steve. There was a furious expression on his face, and he had already raised his hand to knock again, but the blow did not come. I saw his eyes widen in amazement. I hit him. His stunned look gave me control of the situation. "Get out, you pathetic piece of [ __ ]! If I see you again, you'll get more!"

Mary was standing behind me when I turned from the door. "Are you okay?"

"No, it looks like I broke my damn arm." The pain was clearly heard in my words. A smile appeared on her face, and she began to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Well, from what I saw, you could say you won on points, but some might say you both tied."

"Let me see." I extended my hand to her and suddenly understood what she meant. "Yes, very funny, but I couldn't help but smile at the whole situation. I'll probably regret it later, but for now, I feel good. The arm is not broken, just bruised, like your ego. Now, did this help you?" she asked.

"Not really, but I couldn't help but do it. It's a man's thing, you wouldn't understand." Mary leaned over and kissed my bruised fingers before taking control of the situation. "I'll get you some ice for your hand and let your ego take care of itself. Sit down." She sat me down on the sofa and went to the kitchen. When she returned, she handed me a bag of frozen peas. "Here, put this on your hand, it will help. While you do this, I'll go take a shower and get dressed."

Placing an ice pack on my injured arm, I closed my eyes and sank into the soft pillows. How could my life turn around like this in such a short time? I had no idea how I really felt about everything that had happened over the past weeks. Emotions followed each other on a whim, from a sound or a smell. Each new round brought new thoughts and feelings. Fear, anger, resentment, disappointment. These words used to seem empty to me, but now I understand their true meaning, how they can influence your life, unwanted but inevitable.

A slight sound caught my attention, and I opened my eyes to see Mary standing next to me, studying me carefully. Her eyes regained that look of compassion that made them not bright blue, but a hazy gray. "Do you understand what you just did?"

"It means... when did you hit him?"

"Yes, probably. Now they will open a case of beating against me, and I will go to prison."

"Don't pass by, don't collect $200, straight into the cage."

"Well, yes, there is such a possibility, but not only that." Her words sounded insistent, demanding that I listen and participate in the discussion. "No, what do you see that I don't see?" I asked with a hint of hopelessness.

"You just fought for her, or at least started to fight. Don't stop now."

My head began to swirl with thoughts, and for a moment, I was speechless. "I... I... I don't think so. It was just anger and disappointment. I fought for myself, not for her."

"Jack, I know you. You hate violence. You'd rather run a 100 miles than hit someone, especially while defending yourself. But when it comes to protecting your family, you are different. You just proved it, although your stubborn nature will not allow you to admit it." Mary shook her head in irritation and headed upstairs. Her long blonde hair swayed with every movement. Soon, I heard the sound of water and her singing above the noise of the shower. Soon, I heard the sound of water and Mary's singing, which covered the sound of the shower. What makes her so happy? And then I remembered her recent confession and my offer of unconditional forgiveness. Of course, she was happy that our friendship would continue, but she was even more happy that she was freed from some of the guilt that had tormented her all these years. Her words quietly reached me, and we all know it's better this way. Yesterday is behind us now. Let's all start living for what will last forever." I have heard these lines countless times, but never in my life did I think that I would hear them in such a context. Damn it, this woman knew exactly how to get into a man's soul.

20 minutes later, Mary returned, already dressed and with a bag on her shoulder. "Would you like some coffee before you go? I just put a fresh one on to brew."

"No, thank you. How's your hand?"

"It hurts, but everything will be okay. You were right, I don't think I broke anything." The smell of coffee filled the room, reminding me why I made it. My stomach tightened, and I felt disgusting. Mary leaned over and kissed me lightly. "Think about what I said and don't make hasty decisions. Promise me this, at least."

"I promise. My life is a complete mess right now, and I don't want to complicate it any further."

"The problem is that I don't know how to make it better."

"Well, you will do what you need to do. Start with yourself and move on. When all is said and done, the only one you control is yourself. Figure out what you want, and then see if Megan fits into that picture. If it fits in, then she will have to work on it with you. If not, I guess that will be the end." I absorbed her words, realizing the simplicity of her sentences. She made it seem possible.

"Listen, I have to go. Call me if you need me. But before you do, talk to your wife and give her a chance to explain why she did all this. Give her at least that much time." Holding her breath, she continued, "I know you might not like it, but I have to say it. I'm not making excuses for Megan, but how are your actions different from hers?"

My eyes widened. "What do you mean, my actions? Megan started it all. She cheated on me and schemed behind my back. I didn't even look at the other woman until she did it first." I... I almost screamed in defense of myself. "How can you compare my actions to her behavior?"

"Calm down," Mary said softly, interrupting me. "I'm not saying you didn't have reasons for anger or revenge. I'm saying that you both did the same thing, although for different reasons. She lied, schemed, and cheated behind your back. She set you up and caused you great pain. You two lied, made plans, and cheated, although mostly behind her back. You set her and Sylvia up, and I have no doubt that now both of them are suffering almost as much as you."

"How can you say that? I cheated. Our marriage has already broken down. It's not the same thing. You are still officially married, and this makes your actions wrong. Think about it, Jack." Mary grabbed her bag and headed for the door. Opening it, she blew me a kiss and left.

I sat there, still trying to comprehend her words. Heard the car door slam, and then the screech of tires as she drove away. Coffee did little to calm my stomach. I needed fresh air, change, perhaps a run will help. I haven't been running much lately, but it seemed like the right thing to do. People might say I'm trying to run away from my problems. Who knows, maybe they are right. At that moment, it was just something that had to be done. It only took a few minutes to change into sports clothes, after which I got into the car and drove to the local stadium. I hate running in the streets; it always seems like I'm showing off to my neighbors. At the stadium, I was just one of a dozen other runners. I don't stand out, just one of the crowd. I had only been running for 10 minutes when I felt dizzy and walked to the edge of the path. Perhaps I pushed myself too hard at the start of the run. I was probably in worse shape than I thought, or the stress of the last few weeks had weakened me. I eventually passed out, my stomach empty, in the bushes nearby. My whole body was shaking as stress finally took over. My legs could no longer support me, and I slid to the ground. After 20 minutes, the shaking stopped, and I was able to recover enough to drive home.

As I pulled up to the house, I saw my neighbor looking out her door. She cheerfully approached me as I parked and got out of the car. "Hello, Mrs. Olsen. How can I help you?" I asked. Mrs. Olsen was 85 years old and was sort of the mom of our neighborhood. A widow for the last 4 years, she has taken it upon herself to take care of us all. She didn't meddle in other people's affairs but was always ready to help when needed, making sure that no one got hurt. "Jack, don't worry. I saw everything. This terrible man was going to hit you. You were just defending yourself. That's what I told the policeman." Her voice rose several octaves as she began to defend one of her own.

"Which policeman?" I asked.

"He came because of a fight. He wanted to talk to you, but you weren't home, so he came to see if I had seen anything." Here, he left his business card. He wants you to call him back." As I reached out for the card, I felt my hand, reminiscent of my collision with Steve. The card Mrs. Olsen handed me belonged to a police sergeant from the local precinct. On the back was a phone number and a request to call me back as soon as I got home. "Thank you, Mrs. Olsen. I guess I better call him now and get this over with."

Upon entering the house, I decided to take a shower to freshen up before making the call. This gave me time to think about what to say. Mrs. Olsen said she thought he was going to hit me. I remembered his raised fist, but he was just knocking on the door and wasn't ready for me to open it so quickly. From her perspective, it really might have looked like he was going to attack me. "Well, I won't miss my luck. I'll take advantage of it." He answered the third call. "Sergeant Burke." Short and sharp. "Sergeant Burke, this is Jack Wright. I received your business card. How can I help?"

"Mr. Wright, a complaint has been filed against you for assaulting Mr. Steven Adams. He claims you hit him without provocation, breaking his nose. He said you did it out of revenge for him sleeping with your wife, even though you gave permission. I need to talk to you about this. Can you come to the station? If not, I can come get you." The threat was barely covered. Either come voluntarily or in handcuffs. The choice is mine. "There is no need to bother you. I can come in an hour, if that suits you."

"Come back in 40 minutes. I finish at 5:00 and want to close this case before the end of the shift." He made me understand that he was in charge here. "Okay, 40 minutes." Since I was already dressed, I had time to collect my thoughts and arrive a little earlier.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Wright. I only need this conversation to gather the facts before I decide what to do. Just tell me your version of events."

"Well, Steve was right about sleeping with my wife. As for the fact that I gave permission for this, yes, I did, but it was under pressure. When I found out that I was framed by both of them, I collected evidence and sent it to his wife. She probably left him." I shrugged to emphasize the last words. "This afternoon, he came to me in a rage, knocked on the door, and demanded a meeting. When I opened the door, his fist was raised as if he was going to hit me, so I struck first in self-defense. He is much bigger than me, and I was scared. I only hit him once, and I may have actually broken his nose. Then I told him to leave and not to come again. Not in those words, but you know what I mean."

"Did you invite him?"

"No, honestly, I hope to never see him again."

"Were there any witnesses?"

"I didn't think so at the time, but Mrs. Olsen, my neighbor, said she heard a knock and came out to see what was happening. She saw him, so she can tell you what she saw. What about your wife? Did she see it?"

"My wife was not there. Strange. Mr. Adams claimed that she was not. Really, it was my friend who came to be with me. My wife is now living with a friend." His hint was clear. "Did she see anything?"

"Don't think so. She came to the door after I hit him. All she saw was him lying there. I can give you her number if you need it."

"No, I don't think this will be necessary. I have already spoken to your neighbor, and she has confirmed your version of events. You're right, his wife did kick him out, and he admitted that he came to settle a score." His words. So Sergeant Burke closed his notebook and put his pen in his breast pocket. "Apparently, everything is fine with you, but he may have broken the law. Do you want to apply for it?"

"No, I just want to forget this whole story, although I understand that this will not happen."

"I doubt it will be forgotten so quickly. Thanks for your time. By the way, you seem to have a good shot. His nose is just a nightmare. Next time, think before you act. You may not be so lucky with convenient witnesses." Pointing to the door, he said, "I'm sure you'll find a way out on your own. I need to finish the report."

The quiet sound of keys accompanied me to the door. The day was already approaching evening when I left the police station. The air was filled with the smells of the streets and the buzz of insects. Summer was just around the corner, and the weather was getting warmer, which made me glad to wear light clothes. It was too early to go home. Perhaps we should meet with the children and tell them about Megan and I's breakup. No, there will still be time for this. Now, you need to sort out your feelings. Damn, it's Saturday night. There must be something going on in town. Maybe there's a game to watch or a group to join. I didn't want to return to an empty house. Racking my brain, I remembered that a billiard's tournament was being held at a local pub. Not a place I would normally go, but who knows, maybe it will take my mind off my problems for a few hours.

When I got home, I parked and walked to the pub. I sat at the bar with a glass of beer and a steak sandwich and chatted with the bartender while waiting for the games to start. It was already after midnight when I returned home, chilly, wrapped in a thin shirt and trousers. I hardly inserted the key into the lock and went into the living room. Coffee or bed? Fatigue made this choice for me. I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep on the sofa. I don't remember how I ended up in bed, but I woke up under the covers, still in clothes, but without shoes. The rays of sun streaming through the open curtains made me turn away from the bright light. It was already late in the morning. I realized this immediately. Of course, everything is relative. For a farmer who gets up early to milk his cows, 6:00 AM is late. For someone who is on vacation, 10:00 is early. As I said, everything is relative. I was in hell. My headache, my mouth was dry, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I urgently needed coffee and headache pills. I spent the next two hours trying to remember Saturday evening. The pills helped a little, and regular coffee helped ease my condition to an acceptable level. That's when the phone rang, and Sylvia reminded me how much pain I was truly in.

As the bath water cooled, so did my rage, and I was finally able to make some decisions. After drying myself off, I put on some clothes without really thinking about what they were. Taking the phone, I started to dial my parents' number but stopped and hung up. I needed to do this in person. Calling would only complicate things for all of us. After closing the house, I got into the car and drove to them. When I parked in the driveway, I saw my mom's car parked in the garage with the hood up. Dad leaned over the engine, his upper body disappearing into the depths of the car. It's an old 1994, and my mom just loves that car. It was the first new car her dad bought her, and she refused to get rid of it, even though it had long since fallen into disrepair. Dad constantly repaired it, grumbling that it was useless junk and that it was high time to exchange it for a new one. I think he was secretly happy that she still loved that car. He gave her. It was a symbol of her love for him and his for her. Raising a family was not easy for my parents. We weren't particularly wealthy, and they both worked hard for what they had. Growing up in our family, we children sometimes didn't get everything we wanted, but what we always had in abundance was love for each other. But love in our family has always been in abundance. It was something tangible, subtle, but always present, and I felt safe and protected when I was around family, including grandparents. Unfortunately, all four of them have passed away in the last few years, but their memories live on in me. My parents saved everything to pay off the mortgage on the house and provide for our education, often sacrificing their own needs. Our family vacations were often short trips to the beach, and as we kids grew older, we took on summer jobs. It was in this family that I learned to value such things as love and respect for others, patience, tolerance, and most importantly, the need for trust in relationships.

In the last few days, I have failed greatly in the area of patience and tolerance. I remember one day I forgot to do my household chores, and my brother did them for me. That day, I wanted to go meet my friends and told my father where I was going. He asked if I had completed my duties, and I lied that I had. Somehow, he knew that I was not telling the truth, and I still remember the disappointed look in his eyes when he heard me lie. He did not scold me, did not punish me, and did not deprive me of my freedom. He simply shook his head and said, "I thought you had more respect for me and yourself to lie. If it's that important to you, you can go." Then he continued to fix the toaster. I worried about this for a long time before I pulled myself together and came to apologize to him and my brother. His response was typical of a father, calm and caring. "Son, an apology is a good step, but it cannot correct the breach of trust that lies have created. This will take time and much more effort than mere words." All these thoughts raced through my head in a matter of seconds as I parked and got out of the car. Dad heard me and emerged from the depths of the car, covered in oil. When he saw who had arrived, a wide smile lit up his face. "Jack, how was your weekend? Come in, I'll go wash up," he said, heading into the house and shouting to his mother, "Beth, Jack has arrived. Put on fresh coffee." At the sound of his voice, my children, as if by magic, ran forward to greet me. I knelt down and hugged them a little longer than usual. I needed to feel their love for me. Amber was seven, and Jack Jr. was five, at an age where children can express their feelings without embarrassment. Picking them both up in my arms, I headed to the kitchen. Mom's abode. While Dad went to the bathroom. There's something about moms that lets them know when something is wrong before you even open your mouth. "What happened, Jack? Now, I'll pour you some coffee, and you'll tell me everything." I sent the kids to play and grabbed a cup of coffee. "Mom, let's wait until Dad comes out. This is going to be a tough conversation, and I don't want to have to go through everything twice." Mom nodded and continued her business. A few minutes later, Dad returned, and I spent the next hour telling them about the last weeks of my life. Both listened attentively, only occasionally interrupting to clarify details. Mom's reaction was not at all what I expected. I thought she would support me by criticizing Megan, but instead, she said, "Jack, you got into a fight and hit a man. We didn't teach you to solve problems with violence. I understand that you are upset, but this is not an option." Upset, this is definitely an understatement. Dad nodded, agreeing with Mom, and then asked a question, "And what are you going to tell the children? It will be much more difficult for them; they will not understand." I shrugged. "I don't know what to say. For now, they're probably better off thinking that Megan was away on business. When the time comes, I will tell them that she is not coming back. They don't need to know why." Mom put her hand on my arm across the table. "If you want, the children can stay with us for a few more days. We will be glad to see them, and they are happy here. This will give you time to talk to Megan and figure out what to do next without worrying about the kids." "Thank you, Mom. I knew I could count on you. I'm sorry I disappointed you and Dad by hitting that man, but I don't regret doing it. And to answer your next question, yes, I felt better at that moment. Now, I'm not so sure." Dad cleared his throat. Um, this was a sure sign that he was about to say something important. "Son, it was as much a shock for us as it was for you. Megan's behavior was disgusting, and she hurt you deeply. I understand why you reacted the way you did, and divorce may be the best option, but is it the only option?" What is this? Is Dad hinting that I should forgive her? My face must have given away my thoughts. "I'm not suggesting that you immediately forgive her and return her. I suggest you weigh all your options before making a decision. Contact a lawyer, talk to a psychologist, and decide what is best for you and for the children. Megan has made serious mistakes, and she too will need to figure out how to move forward." We talked a little. The children played at my feet. Then it was time to leave and meet Megan. After kissing the children, I told them that they would stay with their grandparents for a few more days, and then I would pick them up. Amber wanted to know where Mom was, and I told her she was gone for a while. Children easily accept what seems normal, and ours were no exception. My father's parting comment got me thinking. "Remember, Jack, when someone breaks your trust, it hurts both parties. If you truly love a person, you should give them a chance to rebuild that trust. Sometimes, when we try to take revenge, we hurt ourselves more than the other." His words would return to me many times that day and in the months to come. After kissing my mother, I hugged my father and went home.

At exactly 4:00, there was a knock on the door. Gathering my courage, I opened it and saw Megan and Sylvia standing together. Before I could protest, Megan said, "Jack, I hope you don't mind that I brought Sylvia to help with my things. She'll stay here if you want, but she has something she wants to tell you." I was shocked. Megan and Sylvia both looked like they'd had a rough few days. Their eyes are dark and sunken with redness from constant crying. The hair is combed, but without special care. There was minimal makeup, and their clothes looked like they slept in them. Both looked 10 years older in 2 days. Surprised, I relented and invited both of them inside. "No need to stand there, you can come in. The neighbors already have enough topics for gossip, so let's not give them even more reasons." Megan looked around as if she was looking for something but didn't find it. Sensing her concern, I said, "Mary is not here. She left yesterday. About... where are the children?" "Mom has them for a few days while we sort out the divorce and settle a few issues." The word divorce made both of them shiver a little. "I, it seems, have already resigned myself to the inevitable." Megan sighed, then said, "I was hoping to see them and kiss them, but this is one of the issues that we will need to discuss, your access to the children." I'm not sure I want them to be influenced by the lifestyle you and Sylvia are planning to lead. Before I could continue, Sylvia interrupted, "Jack, can we sit down, please? I need to say something before you start jumping to conclusions about our lifestyle." Without waiting for an answer, they both sat down on the sofa next to each other. At this point, I noticed that both were dressed very conservatively, in jeans and loose tops. They seemed to be trying to hide their sexuality under boring, inconspicuous clothes. Sylvia continued, "Jack, Megan told you that I have something to tell you. I tried to say this on the phone this morning, but you hung up and refused to listen. That's why I'm here, to tell you this face to face, where you can't ignore me. I understand that you probably hate me, and I don't blame you. My role in all of this destroyed your marriage, and I will never forgive myself for what I did to you both." Sylvia became upset and stopped for a moment to blow her nose into a handkerchief, setting it aside. She took another handkerchief from her bag and continued in a low voice, turning the handkerchief in her hands. "You are both my friends, and I made a terrible mistake, but you should know that I never wanted to separate you. I guess I thought you'd be like all the other men and go for it if I offered it to you. When you didn't, I took it as a challenge to seduce you, but no matter what I did, nothing caught your attention. Sure, you flirted a little, but even that was just to be polite, not because you wanted me. This had never happened to me, and I was intrigued by a man who could be so devoted to one woman while rejecting all others. What I did is unforgivable, and I will not insult you by asking for forgiveness." Sylvia asked for water, and out of habit, I offered Megan something to drink as well. When he returned with the drinks, Sylvia continued her confession, saying that her intrigue led Megan to think about a different life. When I returned with the drinks, Sylvia took a sip of water and continued, "It was my idea to get Megan interested in another man. I thought that if she did this, it would be easier for me to get you into bed. All I've heard from Megan since she met you is what a wonderful man you are, a husband, father, and lover." I looked at Megan, but she was still looking at the floor, at a point somewhere near her feet. The soda can was clenched tightly in her hands. She looked so sad sitting there that I wanted to go up to her and hug her, tell her everything would be okay, but I couldn't. It would be a lie because everything was not good. "It will never be good for her and me. Jack, you have to believe me when I say Megan loves you. I know what we did was wrong, but she understands now that it was a huge mistake, and she wants to fix everything. Please listen to her, give her a chance, I beg you."

This was the moment I had been waiting for, the chance to get answers. "I have a lot of questions that I need answers to, so Megan will get a chance to tell her side. I don't think it will change anything, but I'll listen. There is one condition: she must be completely honest. If I sense a lie, then it will all end right there." Turning to Megan, I asked the questions that had been bothering me since the day this nightmare began. "Why, Megan? Why did you do this to me? To us? Was I that bad of a husband and father? If you wanted to be with someone else, why didn't you just tell me it was over? It would hurt, but not as much as what you did." My voice was shaking, and I could no longer speak. Megan sat, shaking her head and muttering, "No, no, no, that's not the point."

"So what then? Help me understand." Megan gathered herself, then slowly raised her head and looked me straight in the eyes. Her voice was quiet, but there was firmness and determination in it, which surprised me. "I never stopped loving you. I know this is hard to believe, but it's true. It had nothing to do with you as a father, husband, or lover. All the blame is mine, and I regret every moment in which I hurt you. If I could, I would take it all back, but I can't." Megan took a sip of her drink, perhaps to give herself time to think about what she was about to say. "Jack, I know you probably hate me, and I can't blame you. It all started about 6 months ago. Sylvia had just gotten out of an affair with Steve, and was telling me everything. I had heard so much about him from others, and Sylvia confirmed that he was very good in bed. I started getting curious and asked a few questions. Over the next months, Sylvia kept reminding me of him, and I began to wonder what it would be like. It became an obsession for me. I tried to forget about it, but every time I saw him or heard about him, it came back with renewed vigor. I never wanted to cheat on you, but I couldn't get rid of this feeling." Her hardness disappeared, giving way to sadness and softness. "I can't deny that when we had sex, I sometimes imagined that it was not you, but him. Guilt made me want to tell you, but I couldn't. When we made love, it was only you. Please believe me. I never thought you'd find out. I thought you would be so ashamed of your alleged affair with Sylvia that you would be grateful for the chance to make amends with me. At least that was the plan. You know the rest. I only realized how much I hurt you when I saw you leave with Mary." Megan trembled with the memory of what happened on Friday night. "Oh yes, about my betrayal with Sylvia. Tell me, did you receive anything from me that night?" Sylvia shook her head. "No, I tried, but it didn't work." I breathed a sigh of relief. "At least that makes me happy. How many times have I heard you condemn men for taking advantage of women, and now you yourself are doing this, and even worse, in order to cheat on me? I don't know if I hate you, but I do know that I really don't like what you did."

Megan gathered her courage again and said, "Jack, I know I don't deserve this, but could you please give me one more chance to prove to you how much I love you? Give me a chance to restore the trust you had in me." These last words reminded me of what my father said earlier. Now I was completely confused. On the one hand, I wanted to kick her out into the street. On the other hand, I understood that I still loved her and did not want to lose her. "We both needed time to figure it out. I can't forgive you." Megan's face turned pale as I said those words. "At least for now. I need time to think things over and sort out my feelings. I really don't know what I want to do. If I had to decide now, you would have left today, so don't pressure me to answer." The suggestion that there was still a chance for us did not pass by any of the women. "Okay, let's take a break and see what happens next when we have time to think about everything. Let's take our time." Megan grabbed onto this thin thread of hope. "I'll pack my things and leave, but I have one request: please give me the opportunity to see our children. Don't use them as weapons against me." I shook my head. "How could you think that I'm capable of this? I would never use children against you; it would hurt them too much." Megan's response surprised me even more. "You've done a lot of things lately that I never thought you were capable of. It's not like you don't have a reason. I saw a side of you I didn't know existed, and I'm not sure I like it." "I don't blame you; it's my fault that this side of you came out." There was silence. Both sides said everything they wanted. A minute later, Megan and Sylvia went upstairs to gather her things, leaving me to ponder her last words. When they returned, Sylvia loaded her bags into the car, and Megan returned to the living room. "Jack, could you put the divorce on hold for now, at least until we decide if we can fix something?" I shook my head. "No, I think it's best to continue. Knowing how lawyers work, it will take about 6 months before everything is final. We will have time to think about the future if we have it. If not, then it's better that we can move on quickly." Megan accepted my words with sadness. "Yes, I understand what you mean. Okay, then I have to go." When she turned to leave, I called her back. "Megan, if you want, you can visit the kids every other weekend and call them during the week." "Thank you, I will do so. Kiss them for me and tell them that Mommy loves them." "I'll tell you." With these words, she left.

Megan closing the door, I walked towards Sylvia's car, my eyes blurry despite my attempts to keep from crying. I barely had time to get into the car before tears flowed from my eyes. I sat down in the passenger seat and slammed the door hard, feeling incredibly disappointed. I forced myself to stop crying and with an effort, pulled myself together. I was angry, very angry. I was angry at Jack for not loving me enough to try to save our marriage. I was angry at Sylvia for getting me into this situation, but most of all, I was angry at myself for putting us in this position. Not trusting my voice, I sat looking out the window while Sylvia drove out of the entrance. When we pulled out onto the street, Sylvia turned to me and asked, "Are you sure you want to go to your parents? You know you can stay with me as long as you want, if you want." Shaking my head, I whispered through pursed lips, "No, I need space and time to figure all this out. I need a neutral place where I can rest. I'm not going to give up on our marriage, even if Jack has already given up. If I'm going to regain his trust, I need to prove to him that I'm not cheating anymore. He trusts Mom and Dad, and if they tell him I haven't dated other men, he'll believe them." I was angry at everyone and everything. I knew.

was being unfair to Jack. He had enough reasons to abandon our marriage. If it had been the other way around, I'm not sure I would have acted differently. But it was still a shock to find out that he hated me enough to demand a divorce.

Mom and dad didn't know anything about what happened, so when I arrived unannounced, they were surprised. I briefly told them what happened, telling them that I cheated on Jack and that he was filing for divorce. Dad was confused and wanted an explanation. "What happened? Why did you change? I thought you loved Jack."

"Dad, I really love him. I can't answer your questions because I myself don't fully understand why this happened. Please, let's leave it at that for now."

Mom, as always, became a calming force. "Not now, Andrew. There will be time to discuss everything. Don't you see how hard it is for her? Come on, Megs, I'll help you with your things and get you settled in your old room, and then we'll talk." Taking one of the bags, she headed upstairs. As I followed her, I noticed how difficult it was for her to climb the stairs. "Mom, what's wrong with you? You look like you're in pain."

She paused at the top step to catch her breath, setting her bag down. "Nothing that can't be chalked up to old age, Megs. Your mother is not getting any younger."

I hugged her shoulder and squeezed her tighter. "Leave the bag here. I'll take it after I bring the other one into the room. Thank you for always being there."

As I took care of my things and settled into my old room, I began to analyze the last months of my life. I didn't want to relive the horror of the last few weeks, but I knew I needed to figure out why I did what I did. It was not just a desire or a thirst for thrills; it was something more, but I could not fully understand what exactly.

It all started that night at the club when Sylvia told me she was dating Steve. She described their intimacy in detail, repeating what a wonderful lover he was. I had heard rumors about Steve from other women at the club, and I, I must admit, was interested. I had dated men before I met Jack, but I only had limited experience with two other guys who had even less experience than me. Jack was my first long-term partner, and his patience and care in every aspect of our relationship won my heart. When the previous two guys only wanted physical release, Jack sought to please me, putting his needs in the background. Now, looking back, I realized that he always put me and the children first, even to his own detriment. Before this terrible incident, I did the same for him, but this time I failed him.

As the weeks passed and Sylvia continued to tell me about Steve, I began to wonder what it would be like to make love to another experienced man like him. I started fantasizing about Steve while having sex with Jack. At first, I felt guilty and tried to push these thoughts out of my head, but I couldn't. My excuse was that Jack couldn't know what I was thinking, and it wouldn't hurt him. Moreover, he was getting more sex, so it was actually good for him. Gradually, unnoticed by myself, my fantasies turned into an obsession, which could only be satisfied if I carried it out.

Of course, I told Sylvia about all this. After all, what else are best friends for? Sylvia said with a grin, "Megan, you should try it. What Jack doesn't know won't hurt him, and he'll never know unless you tell him. Moreover, he owes this to you after everything you have done for him and the children." It was pure nonsense, but exactly what I wanted to hear. Therefore, everything seemed logical to me. I didn't realize at the time that Sylvia was doing this to seduce Jack. Looking back, I see how it was. She still wanted revenge on her scumbag husband who left her for a younger model. To her, all men existed only to be used and then thrown away, just as they had done to her. If I had realized this then, perhaps I could have stopped everything before it got out of control.

The plan was the easy part. I was watching a rerun of an old TV show where a man was convinced to do something illegal by making him think his daughter was in danger. In fact, she was safe; it was just that the whole situation was in his head. I thought that if Jack thought he might lose me, he would do anything to save our marriage, including allowing me to sleep with someone else. That's it. The plan was ready. I discussed it with Sylvia, and she suggested trying to seduce Jack. It didn't work, so we decided we should just make him believe he cheated on me. I have to admit, the thought of Jack sleeping with Sylvia made me jealous, and I almost gave up on the plan, but the fantasy was too much for me. My obsession, the criminality of my plan, and the excitement of being part of the scheme drove me into an almost sexual frenzy.

In the last 2 weeks before the party, I was afraid that Jack would start asking questions about why I wanted sex so badly all the time. I shouldn't have worried; he was still as trusting and caring as he always was. When he returned home after the party, his face was a mask of pain, and I couldn't look at him. I realized how much I had hurt him, and that worse was yet to come. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't tell him the truth, so I continued the deception.

To be honest, sex with Steve was disappointing. Sex with Steve was purely for his own pleasure; I took a secondary place. Only after a while did I understand why Steve was on his ego trip and was trying to make Jack look bad by calling him a weakling. At first, I supported him, but over time, his behavior began to irritate me, and I could not stand it any longer. "Steve!" I screamed at him. "We both know Jack had no say in this, and that doesn't make him a weakling. He thinks he is saving our marriage, but what we do only hurts him. If you want to continue, stop saying bad things about my husband." Steve blinked in surprise, then muttered an apology. We continued, but the pleasure from it all disappeared.

Later that night, I woke up to an empty bed. Steve had gotten dressed and left without saying thank you or goodbye. I felt like a woman of easy virtue. Did he have a desire to leave money on the nightstand as a client? Looking back, it was no better than I deserved, but in the moment, it made me feel used. I needed to take a shower, and then I decided to talk to Jack and tell him that this was over, that everything could go back to normal. But he wasn't there, and I panicked. I thought he had left me, but his things were still in the closet. I tried to call his cell phone, but it was switched off, so I called Sylvia just to talk. Her advice was to continue, otherwise, he might suspect something was wrong. Like a lamb to the slaughter, I allowed myself to be drawn even deeper into this nightmare, and then that Friday, everything collapsed. He knew everything. The divorce papers and his engagement ring were the surprises he had planned, and Mary, of course. Mary, my rival for Jack, seemed to have finally won. I wanted to blame Sylvia, Steve, Jack, anyone but myself, but I couldn't. It was my fault, and only I could fix it. But was it fixable? I didn't know, but I was going to do everything I could to try and turn things around.

That long night, I made several important decisions. First, our friendship with Sylvia came to an end. We were friends for a very long time, but real friends don't do that. I was there for her when she was having a hard time, I supported her after her divorce, and she was always there for me, but after that, I had to wonder what kind of friend would do that. Of course, it wasn't all her fault; I let it all happen. I went for it with almost full awareness of the consequences, but she did not keep her part of our friendship, and it was better for us to go our separate ways. I tried to contact Sylvia to tell her that our friendship was over, but I couldn't get through to her. She didn't answer the phone, her cell phone was switched off, and she took time off from work. After 2 weeks, I gave up.

A few weeks later, another unpleasant surprise awaited me. Steve somehow found me and showed up at my parents' house one Saturday asking for me. Mom opened the door, not knowing who he was, and called me. When I saw him, a wave of anger swept through my body. My mother later said I turned white as a ghost. "What do you need?" my voice trembled with rage.

"I heard he kicked you out, and my [ __ ] wife did the saying to me. I thought, if you have nothing better to do," his voice took on a playful tone, "maybe we could meet? Well, you know what I mean." The smirk on his face brought back unpleasant memories of that night, and none of them were pleasant.

"Steve, I'm not interested in seeing you anymore. If you were the last man on Earth, I would run as far as possible. Now, I ask you politely, leave and don't appear in my life again."

His face darkened, and the expression of amusement gave way to rage. "A cheap woman of easy virtue who thinks too much of herself. You got me into this [ __ ] and now you're too good to have sex with me again? This is not the end. I will make sure everyone in the club knows what an easy target you are." His voice broke before he finished his threat.

"You heard what my daughter said. Now get lost. If you try to carry out your threat, you will have to deal with me." I turned around to see Dad standing behind me, me in his police uniform, his right hand resting on his gun holster.

Steve turned pale, turned around, and almost ran to his car. "Dad, you shouldn't have interfered. I could have dealt with him myself."

He smiled. "I know, but I wanted him to understand that when he messes with you, he has his whole family to deal with. Thank you, Dad, for everything. Now, don't you dare cry. These tears will leave stains on your uniform, and the guys at the station will laugh at me. By the way, I have to go. See you tomorrow morning, Megs. If that bastard comes back, call, and I'll send a patrol car in a flash."

Over the next few months, my life became simple: work, home, and seeing my kids every other Sunday. On the days when I saw the children, Jack tried to avoid me, hiding in the workshop or locking himself in his office. He clearly didn't want to deal with me, and I couldn't blame him for that. 10 weeks have passed since our breakup, and I haven't spoken to Jack since that first Sunday. How could I try to fix everything if he didn't want to see me? I was desperate. My marriage was falling apart, and I couldn't do anything about it. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and when the opportunity presented itself, I grabbed it with both hands.

I came home from work on Tuesday night to find my mother lying on the kitchen floor, writhing in pain. Her hip and back had been hurting her for months, but she didn't want to tell anyone, and now the pain was so bad that she couldn't hide it anymore. I rushed to her. "Mom, what happened? Oh my god, did you fall? What's wrong with you?"

Through clenched teeth, she replied, "Help me up and put me on the sofa, Megs, and then I think you'll have to call an ambulance and call your father." I was scared. I helped her lie down more comfortably and called our doctor, who immediately organized an ambulance to take her to the hospital. He said he would meet us there. Mom never admitted that she felt bad, so I knew it was something serious. I should have made her tell me everything the day I visited them. Another feeling of guilt was added to my internal burden.

We sat and talked while we waited for the ambulance. "And Dad, Mom, why didn't you tell us earlier? Do you know what's wrong with you? How long did you put up with this?"

She raised her hand to stop my flow of questions. "Megs, not so fast. Give me a chance to answer. How long? About four or five months. I don't know what's wrong with me. I just thought it was old age taking its toll. I took painkillers, but they don't help anymore. I couldn't tell you; you already have enough problems of your own. But I didn't want to tell Dad. You know how restless he is, and in general, this is probably nothing." Mom winced in pain, and I adjusted the pillow, helping her get more comfortable.

"Well, this is certainly not the best way to find out the truth, Mom. Everything would have been much easier if you had told us earlier. Now, just lie still until the ambulance arrives." Dad and the ambulance arrived almost simultaneously. I explained everything I could to Dad while the doctors examined Mom and prepared her for transport. As they laid her down on the gurney, Dad leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry, I'll be there," his voice broke. "I'll always be with you." Mom winked at him despite the pain. "I know, dear, and I will be with you too."

The hospital was 30 minutes away, and the road passed through some of the city's busiest streets, but we got there in 23 minutes. At every intersection, we were accompanied by police cars, which blocked traffic for the ambulance. Dad later said that almost all the police station cars were used. Dad was one of the most respected sergeants in the department, and when his colleagues learned that his wife was going to the hospital, they did everything they could to help. I had an image in my head of Moses parting the waters of the Red Sea. Funny what you think about in stressful situations.

Over the next few days, my mother went through numerous tests and tests. She was given endless injections, blood was drawn; each step added to her discomfort and increased our anxiety. On Friday, when I went to see her, she was unusually quiet. "Hey, Mom, what happened? Did you find something bad?" My mother, as always, tried to avoid the topic of her problems. "You know, Megs, your dad and I haven't seen the kids since you and Jack broke up. Could you persuade him to bring them to visit soon?"

"Only if you tell me what's really wrong with you." Giving up, she quietly replied, "Fine. They found some kind of tumor on my spine and hip." Mom squeezed my hand, and I realized how weak it was. "Doctors don't yet know whether it is benign or malignant, but in any case, when it is removed, there is a possibility that it will hit the nerves, and I may lose some mobility. How much this will affect me, they can't say yet."

"Does Dad know?" "Yes, and he is very worried. He blames himself for not insisting that I go to the doctor sooner. Of course, it's not his fault, but he doesn't listen to me. He went for a walk to calm down. Don't worry about him, Mom. I'll take care of him while you recover. Now rest. I'll go look for Dad. I'm sure Jack will let the kids come to you. I'll ask him as soon as I can." Kissing my mother on the cheek, I left the room, looking back to see her almost drowned in a huge hospital bed; the light blue blanket only emphasized her pale face.

When I went to look for my dad, I understood that he would blame himself, but I wondered how much of this was my fault. I destroyed my marriage and brought my problems into my parents' house. Stress may have been the reason for what happened to my mother. Well, if she wants to see the kids, I have to convince Jack to bring them. I couldn't find Dad, so I called home and left him a message, then headed to Jack's house. It was already late, but the lights were on in the house, and music was coming from the living room. I knocked on the door and waited for Jack to open it. All seemed so strange, knocking on the door of your own house, although this was no longer my home, there was still a feeling of strangeness. The door was opened by Kelly, the girl from next door who babysat our kids when we were busy. Her surprise was obvious in her voice. "Hello, Mrs. Wright. How can I help? The children are already asleep." She didn't know how to react, to let me in or not.

"Hi, Kelly. I'm here to see Jack, Mr. Wright."

"Sorry, Mrs. Wright, he's not at home. He, uh, he's out on business." It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was embarrassed to tell me Jack went on a date. First, the news from my mother, and now this. It was all too much, and I turned and ran away, not wanting Kelly to see my tears.

I don't know how I got home that night. Blinded by tears, I almost had an accident several times, but I didn't care. I almost wanted to die. The pain was so intense that I just wanted to curl up into a small ball and hide from the whole world. Over the next few days, I vacillated between anger and self-pity. Night after night, I fell asleep crying, repeating the same question: "Why did he do this? How could he do this to me?" During the day, I tried to stay in front of my mom and dad, although they hardly noticed anything since they had enough worries of their own, but the nights were the hardest. When I was alone in my room, I had time to think, to remember.

One night, I woke up from a nightmare in which I was reliving that night in the restaurant when Jack left with Mary. In my dream, he repeated the same words: "You hurt me so much, it's as if you tore out my heart." Then I realized that the pain I was now experiencing was the same as what I caused him. It was a real shock for me to realize how much I had hurt him. I didn't really understand this until now, but now I do. I understood this only because now I felt this pain myself. No wonder he wanted nothing to do with me.

The next day, Thursday, I left work early to be there before him. I wanted to wait for him when he came home. He was a little surprised to see me sitting on his porch when he and the kids returned home. Amber and Jack Junior ran out of the car and threw their arms around my neck. Jack wasn't so happy to see me. "Mom, Mom, what are you doing here? Will you come home? Please tell me you'll be back."

"Hello, children. No, I won't go back, at least not yet. I need to talk to your dad, and then I'll see you in a couple of minutes." I looked at Jack for confirmation. "Yes, children, you need to wash yourself. Amber, you can help Jack Junior. Mom and I will be in the living room if you need anything."

"Megan, you better come in." The children ran into the house, and Jack Junior sternly told Amber that he was old enough to wash himself and that he did not need her help. They grew quickly, and I missed important moments in this process. As we settled down on the sofa, I was overcome with anxiety again and began to tremble, remembering that terrible Sunday. Jack's stern voice brought me back to reality. "Well, Megan, what do you want to tell me?"

Forcing my voice to sound firm, I replied, "Jack, I have two questions. The first is that my mom is in the hospital. She just had back and hip surgery, and she wants wants to see the kids. I promised that I would ask you if they could visit her in the hospital." Jack's indifference turned to concern. "What happened to your mom? Is she okay? What operation? Why didn't you tell me earlier? Of course, she can see the children. What happened between us doesn't change how I feel about your parents. You know I've always liked them." I briefly told him what happened to my mother. Halfway through the conversation, he excused himself and went to check what the kids were doing, returning to say that they were playing a new video game that he had bought for them. He saw how upset I was and softened. "Looks like you could use some coffee. Wait, I'll do it for both of us. It won't bother me." Returning with two cups, he sat down opposite me, and I noticed that he had taken off his tie.

"You said you had two questions." "Yes, there is one more thing, Jack. Now I understand how much I hurt you. I finally understand what you've been through. It took me knowing you were seeing another woman to understand how you must have felt. The thought of you with another woman was the last thing I wanted to know. I just wanted to die." Pausing to take a sip of coffee, I collected my thoughts and continued, "You asked why I didn't tell you sooner, so I was going to. I came to your house, but you were on a date. Kelly told me. Don't blame her; it's not her fault. She just let it slip." When I stopped feeling sorry for myself, it dawned on me that what I was feeling was the same thing I put you through.

Jack listened to me carefully, not understanding where I was going. "Jack, I already told you that I still love you, and what I did was a huge mistake. Now I understand that it was more than a mistake; it was a stupid, selfish act that cost me the most precious person in my life. I have no excuses for what I did. I'm not even sure I fully understand why I did it, but I know I owe you an apology for everything I put you through. I sincerely apologize. I know this won't make up for my guilt, but I'm truly sorry. I never thought you would suffer like this. I guess I just didn't think about the consequences."

Jack still doubted whether to trust me. My cheating made him suspicious, and he wasn't ready to believe me, let alone trust me again. "Is this another one of your and Sylvia's tricks to get back on my list of good people?" Uncertain sounded in every word.

"No, I haven't seen or spoken to Sylvia since the Sunday we came here. She seems to have disappeared. I tried to call her to tell her that our friendship was over, but I couldn't reach her. I don't blame you for your suspicions, but everything I said comes from my heart."

"Megan, you can't just come here, apologize, and expect everything to be normal. My forgiveness is not so easily earned. If you're trying to make me feel guilty, it won't work. Work. As I said, you broke our vows of fidelity when you slept with Steve. Yes, I dated other women, but I don't consider it cheating, so I have nothing to feel guilty about."

My calm was not shaken, and I myself was surprised at how calm I felt. By accepting the truth of what I had done, I regained control over myself and some self-respect. "Jack, I'm not asking for your forgiveness, at least not now. I don't think I deserve it. It pains me that you date other women, but I agree that you are free to do as you please. I have lost the right to consider you mine and only mine. I can't stop trying to get you back, and I ask only one thing: don't close all the doors in front of me. Give me a chance to prove that I am serious. Let me try to earn your forgiveness."

Jack was silent, looking at the floor. Jack sat silently, looking at the floor, his head swayed slowly from side to side as his strong right hand rubbed his unshaven chin. All the internal struggle was written on his face. I gave him the time he needed because there was nothing else I could do at that moment. Jack cleared his throat to clear his throat, a habit he had picked up from his father. "Megan, I just don't know. More than anything, I want us to be a family again, like before, but I know that this is impossible. I want to forgive you, but the memories of what you did prevent me from doing so. I want to trust you again, but how can I do this?" Jack stood up, and from his posture, I realized that our conversation was over. "I'll go cook dinner for the children. If you want, you can talk to them while I do this. You can stay and have dinner with us if you want. I know the children will be very happy to see you."

I stayed, and that evening, the conversation at the table concerned only my mother and her condition. The children were upset that she was sick but were happy that they would see her soon. Being still small, they could not understand the seriousness of the situation. Jack was concerned about my father and asked me to tell him that his door was always open for them. "Tell your parents that Amber and Jack Jr. are their grandchildren, and I'm not going to stop them from seeing each other." It was almost like before, when we were a family. We ate, I helped with the cleaning, and then I put the kids to bed. When we got back downstairs, I started getting ready. Jack just watched me. I so wanted him to ask me to stay, but I knew he wouldn't. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. He walked me to the door and said quietly, "Tell your parents I'm thinking about them, and they are in my prayers. I'm sure your mom will get better; she's a strong woman and will fight. I'll take the kids tomorrow if that suits you."

"Yes, of course, it will suit you. She really wants to see them, just like Dad." Opening the door, I impulsively turned around and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. For the first time since we parted, he didn't turn away or shrink from my touch. He accepted my kiss but did not return it. At least he didn't completely reject me; that was something. I was almost to the car when he called me. "Megan, I enjoyed this evening, and I know the children did too. Thank you for staying." A small ray of hope illuminated my dark world, like the first ray of sunshine after a storm. It gave me hope for a better future. I was well aware that like after any storm, there would be a lot of cleaning up work to be done before things got better, but I was ready to do whatever was necessary.

True to his word, Jack took the kids to see my mom, not just once, but every day while she was in the hospital. They talked about happy times and the future but never broached the topic of our breakup. It seemed like it was an unspoken taboo until Mom got back on her feet. We all knew that one day we would have to face this. When my mother returned home, I took a leave of absence and stayed with her. I divided my time between taking care of her and visiting the children once or twice a week. Jack brought the children to us on Saturdays. I spent the day with them while Dad took care of Mom. As spring turned to Summer, our meetings became more frequent and evolved from casual dinners to family barbecues. For a few hours, I could forget that we were no longer a family, enjoying communication. However, the negative side was that Jack was still dating other women and did not try to hide it.

"Megan, we need to talk." We sat in my parents' garden, watching the children play near Mom while Dad grilled meat. I was overcome with sudden anxiety. Is this really the end? Is he really going to say that it's over and that he's found someone else? Our divorce was moving forward, and I expected that I would receive the final documents soon.

"Okay, Jack, let's go inside. I'll ask Dad to look after the children so they don't disturb us." When we walked in, we sat down at the kitchen table. I fully expected him to sit opposite me, but instead, he sat next to me. Having thoughtfully sipped his beer, he finally spoke, and meanwhile, I was twirling a glass of wine in my hands. "Megan, this doesn't suit me. I need some kind of permission, but it doesn't come. You know I date other women, but that doesn't work either. I can't settle on anything and I can't enjoy it. Sometimes I make a date and then cancel it. Other times I go, but just have dinner with a girl and take her home. Almost no date goes through."

Hearing his words, my heart was filled with joy. I put my hand on his, and instead of moving away, he covered my hand with his other hand, squeezing it tightly. Jack smiled sadly and continued, "Megan, I've been going to a psychologist for the last month to try to get through this. Dave and Betty were very helpful and advised me to seek professional help. My psychologist advised me to have joint sessions to find answers to my questions."

I immediately grabbed this chance and readily replied, "Of course, I will go with you. Take your time to answer. It may not be what you think. It is possible that the answers I receive will help me move on, but not in your direction. With our divorce about to be finalized, I need more clarity, and this is the best way for me to get it. But these may not be the answers you want." I tried to make my smile look confident, although in reality, I felt far from it.

"I know, but this is what you need. It's the least I can do for you. I'm ready to take the risk. Who knows, maybe everything will work out. I'm ready to try." Now we'd better get back to the kids." Jack smiled and nodded, getting up. I followed him outside, away from sad thoughts.

We went to therapy for the next 3 months, sometimes together, sometimes separately. Initially, this was only supposed to be for Jack's sake, so that he would find the answers he needed to complete this stage of life, but with each session, I myself found answers to my questions. These answers didn't make me any happier, but at least I began to understand why I did what I did, and now Jack understood this too. Our life together became simple, almost sterile. The excitement and fun of youth was replaced by predictable behavior. It turned out that I was trying to add something forbidden and spicy to my life, but instead of discussing this with my husband, I listened to bad advice and trusted Sylvia. The psychologist explained that this is not uncommon in marriage, citing the so-called 7-year crisis. She also convinced Jack and I it was worth trying to work through our issues. "Guys, I listened to both of you for a long time, and I can say with confidence, you still love each other. Megan, you know it, but Jack, you know it, but you need to accept it. I'm not saying it will be easy, but it will be easier than a divorce that you will regret later." She paused to give us time to absorb her words and then continued, "Jack, when you first came to me, you were in complete despair. I watched you drown in self-pity and hopelessness. Now look at yourself. You're still angry, but at the same time, you're happier again. Who or what do you think is causing this?" Without waiting for his answer, the psychologist clearly explained her thought, "You miss a full family life. Those family dinners and barbecues gave you back some of what you had lost. If it's already having that effect, imagine what it would be like if you could take it all back now. Imagine what will happen if you continue to get the divorced and lose the happiness that you have regained."

Jack agreed and temporarily put the divorce proceedings on hold to give us more time to resolve our issues. If we didn't succeed, we would just sign the papers, and it would be over. She was right. It wasn't easy. It took another 6 months of conversations and quarrels. Jack would listen and then let out his anger or worse, just get up and leave. But what gave me hope was that he always came back. He never apologized for his outbursts, believing that I should accept them as part of my punishment. And then one day, he and the children disappeared. This happened after a particularly tough session when he just got up and left. They had been gone for over a week, and I was starting to get desperate. Dad tried to find them through his police work, but to no avail. I even called his parents, but they either didn't know or didn't want to tell me. They were polite but cold, and I didn't insist. I just asked if they did find out anything to let me know that he was okay. They agreed, but I doubted they would actually tell me.

Jack missed two sessions with a psychologist, and I couldn't believe my eyes when I walked into our appointment and saw him sitting in the waiting room. When I entered, he stood up and came to me, taking my hand and kissing me. A small kiss, not on the cheek, but on the lips. He looked different, more confident and calm, almost like his old self. I was confused and just listened, practically not taking part in the session. Jack did most of the talking, explaining where he was and why. "I was furious after that last meeting. I realized that I could no longer continue like this, and I needed to leave. The next day, I called work and agreed on an unscheduled vacation, and then took the children and left. We ended up in the mountains, where we went hiking, fishing, and just walked. The kids were delighted, and it gave me the space I needed to think things through."

"Megan, I hate what you did, but I still love you. The children and I miss you at home." Sheila, he turned to the psychologist, "You were right. Divorce is not an option, at least not for us at the moment." He paused and looked into my eyes, as if he was looking for something. "Megan, I'm ready to give us a second chance. I know this isn't exactly what you wanted, but it's the best I can offer at the moment. I want you to come home, but to the guest room. We need to try living together again and see if we can get over it before we make a final decision."

Sheila beat me to it by just a split second. "Jack, are you sure you're ready for this? We have come a long way, but there is still a lot of work ahead. Maybe it's too early."

"I'm sure I need to move on, and this is the best way to do it. I just hope Megan feels the same. But there are some conditions to this offer. First, Megan must must be examined by a doctor, and secondly, if you cheat or cheat again, we're done. No second chance. I can't go through this again."

"Yes, Jack, it's not exactly what I wanted, but it's a step in the right direction. Before I agree, I need to understand what has changed." As I said, I had time to think. In the mountains, I thought about life with and without you. When I thought about you, I was happy. When I imagined life without you, I felt depressed, sad, and lonely. One day, I was sitting on the bank of a stream, fishing with my children. Amber caught a small trout and almost fell into the water with joy. I caught her, and at that moment, it dawned on me. What if I didn't make it? She wouldn't have time to be with you, and I started crying, and the children consoled me. Amber said what we were all thinking, "I wish Mom was with us." And then I told her, "Me too, honey, me too." And it was true. I really wanted you there with us.

Jack looked at me and said those words that I had dreamed of hearing for so long. "Megan, I love you. I won't be able to forget, but I think I'm finally ready to forgive. I ask only one thing: always be honest with me. Tell me what you want. If you can do that, I think we can handle it." I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I could barely answer. It was only when I was ready to lose him that I received the second chance I had had been praying for.

"Yes, Jack, I can do it. I will spend the rest of my life proving this to you."

Jack shook his head. "No, that's the worst thing you can do. It will only make me remember everything again and again. I want a partner in life, not a submissive slave who lives only to make me happy."

I returned home the next weekend. We had our ups and downs, but compared to what we experienced, these were small things. Almost 4 months had passed since my return before Jack invited me back to his bed. Our first sex was desperate and far from the love I longed to feel, but it helped ease some of our fears. Gradually, over the next weeks, we returned to the tender love making that I remembered and longed to return to. That night was almost like our first time. We sat on the couch and watched some old romantic movie. Jack's hand somehow ended up on my shoulder, and I pressed myself against him, resting my head on his chest. When the film ended, tears silently flowed down my cheeks. Jack kissed them, then kissed me tenderly on each cheek. We looked into each other's eyes and were overcome with a passion that we hadn't felt in a very long time. That night, lying in Jack's arms, he finally said the words that I had been waiting to hear for so long. "Megan, will stop hiding in different rooms and hiding from the children? Move back to our bedroom." From that moment on, we became became a full-fledged family again, one that I would never risk losing again.

However, there was one chapter left unclosed, and it was closed. A couple of months after I moved back into our bedroom, we heard a car drive into the entrance, and Jack screamed as he entered the house. "Hi, Jack. I'm in the kitchen. We have a guest for dinner tonight. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, and who?" His voice suddenly stopped when he saw Mary and me sitting at the table with coffee. "Hello, Mary." What? He froze, confused.

"I decided it was time to end his torment. After you told me what Mary said, I knew I had to thank her. I knew we were never friends, but I felt like I owed her for helping me get you back." Mary chimed in, "Megan came to see me one afternoon, and we went out for coffee together. Since then, we have been meeting once a week to talk and get to know each other better. We discussed it with you, of course." I continued, "We became good friends. I needed a reliable friend, and I found one in Mary. I invited her to dinner so we could tell you everything together. I hope you don't mind."

"No, of course, I don't mind, but it's a little unexpected. I think I need something stronger than coffee."

"Well, maybe you really should have more than one drink. I have one more surprise for you. I know I should have told you this in private, but I can't wait any longer. We will soon be a new addition to the family. I am pregnant." This probably happened in the first week when we started sleeping together again. I started taking the pills again, but they didn't have time to take effect. "I hope you're not mad."

"Angry? What are you talking about? I'm in seventh heaven. You know that I always wanted a big family." Jack took me into his arms and kissed me, then remembering our guest, he released me. "Sorry, Mary, but it's not every day you get the news that you're going to be a dad again."

And so our life continued. My mother has fully recovered. She spent about a year in a wheelchair, but then began to get back on her feet. Now she can walk, although she gets tired quickly, and one leg always remains a little stiff, but it's still better than it could have been. Jack's parents took a long time to forgive me, and I still feel like they're waiting for me to slip up again, but this will never happen again.

I heard from Sylvia many years later. She fell into a deep depression because of what she had done. During one particularly difficult moment, she called her sister to ask for advice, fearing for her safety. Her sister came and took her in. Sylvia underwent therapy for several years before she was able to move on. She eventually met and married a man and now seems to be able to finally let go of the ghosts of her first marriage. Although we are no longer friends, she calls me every year on my birthday, and every time at the end of the conversation, she apologizes again for what she did. She seems to need this to forgive herself. Every time after she calls, I tell Jack about it, and every time he responds the same way. That [ __ ] Jack is a caring and understanding person, but there are things that even he cannot forgive. Sylvia is one of those things for him that he can never forgive.

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