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This post deals with abuse and might be triggering for some readers.
“Yes, I slept with her,” he confessed.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as if a simple apology would clean the slate and the mountains of baggage that silently sat between us.
The woman he spoke of was one he claimed for years was just a friend, his close “friend,” the one with whom he had crossed all the invisible lines.
Watch: Mamamia Confessions: Relationship deal-breakers. Post continues below.
Turned out he had not only stepped but leaped over, the physical lines as well.
His sense of entitlement and lack of true remorse toward me or his close friend, the husband of his partner-in-crime, was chilling.
I shouldn’t have been shocked. In hindsight, it was obvious. But, there I sat shell-shocked as if the sky was falling directly over my head.
I had conveniently convinced myself there was no way he was capable of doing that to me. I had already lived through this trauma once as it was unfolding, and now here I was, nearly two years later, being forced to relive it all over again, albeit with a whole new layer attached.