Why Did I Cheat on Him?

I started dating Mike three years ago, and for the longest time, everything felt perfect. He was kind, thoughtful, and always made sure to meet my needs in bed. But lately, something had shifted inside of me. Maybe it was the stress of work or maybe it was just a growing restlessness that I couldn't shake off. One night, after another day filled with endless meetings and emails, I found myself thinking about James from college. We were never anything serious then, but there was always an undercurrent between us, a chemistry that wasn’t fulfilled back then. Mike and I had plans to watch a movie at home tonight. But as soon as the doorbell rang, my heart was pounding. It’s funny how these things work out; James called just when Mike arrived, saying he was in town for a brief visit and wanted to catch up. After our initial chat, it was clear we both felt something from back then still lingered. Before I knew it, plans were made for the next day. That evening with Mike seemed robotic. We watched our movie, kissed lightly before going to sleep, all while knowing what awaited me at noon the following day. The hours leading up to seeing James again were agonizing. My mind kept flashing back to when we used to hook up in college, those fiery sessions that felt so liberating and untethered. James arrived right on time. He still looked as handsome as ever, charming smile and alluring eyes that made my knees weak. We hugged warmly, laughing about old times. Once alone, we both knew what was coming next. We moved to his car quickly, undressing each other with a fervent passion neither of us could suppress any longer. Sex with James wasn’t just about the physical act; it was a release of all those built-up desires and uncertainties. Our bodies intertwined in ways that felt almost ritualistic, fingers slipping inside me, him burying his face between my legs, tongues tangling as we deepened the connection. His hands roamed freely over my body, tracing every curve and inch he knew so well. I lost myself entirely in the moment, moaning louder with each thrust, reaching orgasm quicker than I have in years. Afterwards, there was a profound sense of satisfaction mixed with guilt. James seemed equally affected by our reunion, his words soft yet filled with emotion as we lay entwined. What happened with James wasn’t just physical; it was cathartic and deeply personal. And now I’m left to wonder, am I the asshole for seeking this out, or did my heart need a reminder of what true intimacy feels like beyond routine?