It Was Just One Time...

I'm married to my high school sweetheart, and we've been together since college. We're in our twenties now and have a good life with two kids. But there's something I need to confess that I've been keeping from her... So this was a year ago, the pandemic started, and we were stuck at home for months on end. My job at the local grocery store became really stressful, dealing with angry customers who couldn't get toilet paper or were being mean because they couldn’t find their favorite cereal brand. At one point, I felt so drained that when I got off work around midnight, there was this customer lingering by the door as if waiting for someone. She didn't seem like she wanted to buy anything; just stood and waited...and waited. She eventually came over near me and started chatting about all these personal stuff without any real context, how her marriage wasn't going well, that her husband cheated on her with her best friend. The way she talked made it clear she was seeking comfort... Well, I shouldn't have given into her. But after listening to her for what seemed like an hour, she told me her name is Natalie and asked if I wanted a drink at a nearby bar. She said something about how being married doesn’t always mean you don't need someone else. And that night, she kissed me... ... It was so wrong. We ended up back at my place, but we were both careful to not wake the kids sleeping upstairs. She made it clear she wanted to be anonymous; no names or phones shared. And I let her lead because of how guilty I felt. But as soon as she kissed me again... ... We had sex right there on my living room floor, under a blanket just in case. It was messy and quick because we were afraid the kids might wake up... Natalie didn't even bring a condom; I guess she took birth control for cheating wives or something. ... Afterwards, it felt like both of us had to get out fast. She said it helped her more than she thought it would; she needed someone who got what being married didn’t solve everything. I...I wasn't sure how to feel other than incredibly guilty. But now, a year later, I still think about that night sometimes when things get tough at home. And part of me is ashamed because I want to see her again but know it's completely wrong. ...