My dear Husband,
I don’t know if words will ever be enough to tell you everything I wanted to say. Or if this, in any way, can assuage my guilt. I just want to get this out of my chest because it pains me so much.
As you read this letter, please believe me, I never meant to hurt you. I love you. I never stopped loving you, even when I was with him.
I’m so sorry I was unfaithful to you. I’m not proud of it. There will never be a logical reason or explanation for my behavior. I won’t even dare rationalize my actions and turn the blame on you. No, you don’t deserve the blame. You, who have been my anchor of strength, my pillar of hope ever since I can remember. You, who have been the kindest to me even when I was not, who accepted me despite my flaws and faults, and gave me security and comfort in life.
I know. I should be cursed. I should be flogged. I should be punished.
But you see, it just happened. I was enjoying my regular cup of coffee in my favorite coffee shop one day, and the next thing I knew, he was there in front of me, smiling his beguiling smile. With his good looks and charm, he was clearly a man who knows his way with women. But it wasn’t that which caught my attention.
It was his genuine interest in me. He wanted to know me. My thoughts, my feelings. Me.
It was a whole new thing for me. Whereas with you, I would hide what I actually feel, he, on the other hand, would urge me to say what’s in my heart — what moves me, what makes me smile or cry, what angers me. He coaxed me to express myself, to be true to what I feel.
With you, my thoughts are often controlled. But with him, he would encourage me to say what’s on my mind, what do I think, what do I observe. And it would often be the start of our discussion on a variety of topics, of good-natured conversations with lots of laugh and friendly banter.
He empowered me. He approved of me. He let me be me.