When I finally left Jason, I told myself “never again.” Never again would I stay after a significant other cheated on me. The kind of distrust and pain and that infidelity sows will inevitably ruin a relationship.Except, I hadn’t been married before. I figured when I married, it would be to someone who would never hurt me like that, someone that would want me and only me for the rest of his life. I am sorry to say that I was wrong.

Never again would I stay after a significant other cheated on me.

Our second ceremony did nothing to bring us closer together like I had hoped. If anything, it drove us further apart. The planning was stressful, and as with most family functions, there was drama. His mother and father were able to get their visitors’ visas. They came all the way from Panama for first their youngest son’s high school graduation and then our wedding. But as their stay went on, the wedding became less about Marco and me, and more about his family. I felt like an outsider when I was with them, and they did little to make me feel welcome. Everything they didn’t like about the week leading up to the wedding, even the ceremony itself, was my fault — and Marco did nothing to back me up. He just stood by and, even on occasion, came to the defense of his family. I was relieved when the whole thing was over.More and more I began to turn to Collin to vent. Honestly, he was one of my few sources of comfort during that trying week. He came early to help with anything I needed, and it was very much appreciated. Without him, I might have gone insane. He definitely lived up to his title of “unofficial bridesmaid.”

Everything they didn’t like about the week leading up to the wedding, even the ceremony itself, was my fault — and Marco did nothing to back me up.

Once the wedding was over, Marco and I returned to the normal routine of our lives. I pretended to be a happy newlywed once more to my friends and coworkers, but on the inside I had not forgotten what that week with his family had been like. I knew where I stood with them, and it concerned me. I tried to focus on the trips in my near future to keep myself afloat. I was going with Marco to Spain in September on another one of his company retreats, and then, we were taking a cruise through the Caribbean with his sister and her husband during Thanksgiving. But really, the trip I was secretly looking forward to the most was the one I was taking in July, by myself, to see Collin.During my visit, Collin was taking me to get my first tattoo. He had several already and a great tattoo artist. I had talked about getting one for a long time and knew I could do it if he was with me. A part of me also, just wanted a small getaway from my already complicated life. I thought this trip would restore me in a way and leave me with more determination to resolve my situation with Marco. However, that all changed the day before I left.Marco was in the shower when the alarm on his phone went off. He had left it in the bedroom, and I noticed it while I was packing for my trip. As I turned it off and it went back to his home screen, I saw a message from one of his female coworkers reading “don’t you miss this?” with an attachment message following it. The message struck me as odd, but I recognized a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Curiosity got the better of me and I unlocked his phone and went into his messages.And there it was, clear as day: a nude.

I saw a message from one of his female coworkers reading “don’t you miss this?” with an attachment message following it.

It felt like there were icy pins and needles stabbing me all through my body as I scrolled through their chat thread. It had started during his company trip to Sweden back in April. They had met up one more time after they were back, in May. Two weeks before our ceremony. I should have screamed. I should have thrown a fit and barged into the bathroom, demanding the truth from Marco. I should have packed a bag and our cat and never come back.But I didn’t. My rage and despair melted away, and I was left completely numb. I didn’t even shed a tear. I closed out of the message, locked his phone, and set it back on his nightstand to continue what I had been doing. When Marco came back into the room in a towel, I let him kiss my cheek, and we talked about where we were going to go for lunch. It was like nothing had ever happened. I didn’t talk about it until the next day when I was with Collin, and only after I’d had a fair amount of whiskey. I didn’t cry then either. All I felt was tired resignation. This was nothing new for me. If anything, it felt like the normal way of things. But I took one look at Collin’s face and knew his heart was broken for me. He held me close and told me that he would be there for me, no matter what I decided to do.

When Marco came back into the room in a towel, I let him kiss my cheek, and we talked about where we were going to go for lunch. It was like nothing had ever happened.

During my trip, Marco’s younger brother had stumbled upon his secret as well and demanded that Marco call me to confess. It was the same day that Collin and I had gone to get our tattoos together, matching ones. It was a symbol from our favorite anime; he got it on his chest, and I on my left side over my ribs. We were nothing if not big sentimental nerds. I was riding on a high when I got the call from Marco. Collin was off dealing with drama from his roommate at the time, and I listened unphased as the all too familiar words were repeated to me.I was stupid. I regret it all. It’s over now and it will never happen again.Please can you ever forgive me? I love you.I told Marco I needed time to think before I made a decision on what I would do moving forward and that I didn’t want to talk with him again until I got home. He respected my decision and left me alone for the rest of my trip. Later, Collin and I took a drive, and I sobbed for ages after I told him what happened. It was the first time I let myself have an emotional response to the betrayal. Once again, the person I had loved and trusted had caused me so much pain. I was devastated and didn’t know what to do. I was married this time. It wasn’t just a normal relationship that I could leave anytime I wanted. We were legally bound together. There was an unspoken pressure for me to stay and try to make it work.

Collin and I took a drive, and I sobbed for ages after I told him what happened. It was the first time I let myself have an emotional response to the betrayal.

And that’s what I tried to do. I decided I would go back home and try to save my marriage. Collin had his reservations when I told him this and asked me if that's what I thought was best for me. When I assured him it was, he didn’t try to talk me out of it. He knew my mind was made up and he respected my choice. As always, he assured me he would be there for me if I needed anything at all, even if it was just somewhere to escape to if things got too stressful. It was a major comfort, and I held that knowledge close to my heart.When I went back to Marco, we talked for hours. Once again, my emotions were absent as he cried and pleaded with me to forgive him, assuring me that the affair was over and that he only wanted to be with me. I told him I would stay on the condition that he find us a couples’ therapist, to stop pressuring me for sex, and that he slept on the couch until I felt comfortable with sharing a bed with him again. He agreed to my terms and assured me he would do everything he could to earn back my trust.

I told him I would stay on the condition that he find us a couples’ therapist, to stop pressuring me for sex, and that he slept on the couch until I felt comfortable with sharing a bed with him again.

It didn’t surprise me though when his words amounted to nothing more than empty promises. Over a month went by and he never found us a therapist. On a few occasions, he came home from drinking with his friends and tried to crawl into bed with me, pleading with me to let him make love to me again. That was why in mid-July when I found out I had severe endometriosis and was pretty much infertile, I didn’t tell him. That news devastated me. I had always wanted children, had dreamed of being a mom since I was a little girl. But I felt like I couldn’t trust my husband anymore. I didn’t want to share my pain with him, not since it seemed like he didn’t care enough to resolve the agony he had already put me through.More and more I leaned on Collin. It was him I went to when I was frustrated about Marco’s lack of initiative to fix our crumbling marriage. It was Collin I sought comfort from when I found out I could never conceive without intense, invasive surgery and hormones. And never once did he demand anything from me. Collin was always a supportive and loving presence in my life. It didn’t take me long before I began to question if I had made a terrible mistake.

I couldn’t trust my husband anymore. I didn’t want to share my pain with him, not since it seemed like he didn’t care enough to resolve the agony he had already put me through.

I had already questioned who I had married before finding out about the affair. Now, I wasn’t even sure why I was staying. What was keeping me there? Marco had hurt and betrayed me in such a fundamental way and had done nothing to show me that he was truly repentant. And yet, here was a friend who showed me every day what true love and support looked like. Here was a friend I knew would have my back no matter what because he had proved it time and time again. What was I doing? It all became very clear. I began to realize where my heart really lay. In the middle of August, my mom had shoulder surgery, and I went home to take care of her for a week. Marco stayed in the city; he couldn’t get time away from work. This was fine with me because more and more I craved any time spent away from him. It was during this time I confessed to Collin that I wanted to leave. I wasn’t happy and knew I could never be with someone who cheated on me, nor could I love someone I didn’t trust. Then, I took a leap of faith. I told him it could be a while, even maybe a year or so, but I asked Collin, if when I was free, if he wanted to be with me. And he said yes.For the first time in months, I was hopeful of my future. I had a goal to strive for, happiness that I knew would finally be mine. It wouldn’t be easy, and there would definitely be opposition to us being together, but in the end it would be completely worth it. It was that knowledge, that Collin was waiting for me, that kept me going when I turned to the city and to Marco. I began the process, through the help of a coworker that I confided in at work, to look for a new place. Marco was busy with things at work, so my aloofness didn’t appear to phase him. It was already like we were living separate lives. It solidified my resolve. Our relationship was dying. It was time to get out.Then one Saturday night, we went to a friend’s birthday party, and I got drunk — blackout drunk.I had actually been having a nice evening. I liked the group of friends we had made through Marco’s coworker, Allen. We had joined their softball league, and I got along great with all the other women. It was Allen’s girlfriend’s birthday party. Lily and I had been into the bottle of rosé I had gotten her as a gift, so I was feeling good. Until Marco cornered me when I was alone in the kitchen. He was already plastered; I could tell by the glassy look in his eyes. Marco asked me if I was ready to go home to which I told him no, that I was having a great time. Then, he got all up in my personal space and tried to coax me to leave, saying that we finally had the apartment to ourselves now that his brother had gone back to Panama and it would be good for us to “reconnect.” I instantly understood his meaning and told him no; I wasn’t having sex with him that night. This upset him and he asked me why I didn’t want to try anymore. I wasn’t going to dignify that with a response. Not wanting to provoke anymore of a confrontation, I turned and headed for the bathroom.

He tried to coax me to leave, saying that we finally had the apartment to ourselves now that his brother had gone back to Panama and it would be good for us to “reconnect.” I instantly understood his meaning and told him no; I wasn’t having sex with him that night.

I locked myself in there and allowed myself to cry a bit. I messaged Collin and told him what was going on. He expressed concern for me and asked if I felt safe. I told him I didn’t think Marco would do anything drastic and that he would probably just mope. It was nothing to stress over. Collin told me to try and have fun for the rest of the party, to reach out if I needed him.But I was wrong. Marco did push further. I was still upset about our earlier interaction so I drank more. I wanted to forget how uncomfortable he made me. I just wanted to enjoy myself. That was the drunkest I had ever been before.I barely remember Marco putting me into the Uber to take us home. The rest of the night I only have pieces of, and I know some of it I’ll never remember. But the things I do remember, I sometimes wish I could forget. During the ride home, Marco tried to make out with me. I can still feel his tongue forcing its way between my unresponsive lips. His hand forcing its way into my top or in the leg hole of my shorts. I remember him pulling me out of the Uber once we got to our apartment, the driver telling us “to have a safe evening.” Marco drug me up to our apartment; he wasn’t gentle because I remember my wrist hurting where he had a hold of me. At one point I was in the bathroom, my head in the toilet, as I purged everything from my system. Marco sat behind me, asking me over and over why I didn’t love him anymore. And for days, that’s all I remembered.

Marco drug me up to our apartment; he wasn’t gentle because I remember my wrist hurting where he had a hold of me.

The next morning I woke up in bed, and he was beside me. My top was still on, but by shorts and underwear were gone. I looked over the side of the bed where I might have kicked them off, but they were nowhere to be seen, just the small trash can marco had obviously left for me. I went out in the living room to languish in my hungover state, while he snored away in the bedroom. The cat curled up with me on the couch and I slept the worst of it off. When I woke up again, I was a little more clear headed. Marco was up and had been to the store. He sat down on the coffee table in front of me and handed me a bottle of Gatorade. He was all sympathetic and doting, asking me how I was feeling. He even teased me about not having pants on. That’s when I remembered how weird it was to wake up with them off and I asked him if he had taken them off for some reason. Maybe I had gotten sick on them. But he shook his head and said no. Later I realized I had left my purse at Allen’s, and Marco jumped to go get it for me. It was while he was gone that I found my shorts. They were on the floor by the foot of the bed, pulled inside out. It would be days before I found the panties on Marco’s side of the bed. I began to feel uneasy. If I had taken them off, they would have been on my side of the bed. I would have been too weak to toss them that far, and my shorts and panties would have been together. When I went to the bathroom, I noticed it burned on the inside and I had strange marks on my thighs. I messaged Collin that I was concerned that something may have happened that night that I couldn’t remember. He was concerned too and asked me again if I was safe. At the time I wasn’t sure anymore, but I told him yes. I didn’t remember, so how could I say something had happened? I told him I thought I was worrying for nothing and that things were fine.

I noticed it burned on the inside and I had strange marks on my thighs. I messaged Collin that I was concerned that something may have happened that night that I couldn’t remember.

The next day however, while I was at work, I remembered more. It came to me in an abrupt flash while I was in the bathroom. The marks on my thigh had darkened and they were noticeable finger impressions. As I looked at them, I got the sudden image of Marco forcing my legs open, of him going down on me. I had been drifting in and out of consciousness when it happened because the memory was so fragmented, but I remembered all the same. I broke out into a cold sweat and began to shake. The walls felt too close, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I kept thinking it was a mistake. It wasn’t real. This couldn’t have happened to me. Not twice.But no matter how I tried to tell myself it hadn’t, I knew. I couldn’t escape the truth. I felt myself drowning in it.I had been raped again.