...

I'm an artist, married to Sarah since we graduated college ten years ago. We've always had this sort-of mutual agreement that our marriage is more of a home base for us than anything else, but it's never been super explicit or anything. It started small, maybe just some side eye or lingering looks in bars, things like that, but as I developed my artistic side further and met other artists, it became more of a thing. One night, after an art show at this trendy new gallery downtown, I got approached by Jake... he's forty, fit, and has this aura about him you just can't ignore. We ended up going back to his place for drinks... and things kind of escalated from there. We both had some wine, made small talk, but then the attraction was undeniable, we ended up together in his bed that night. And it wasn’t a one-off either; we started seeing each other regularly, almost every weekend. I’ve been lying about my whereabouts to Sarah for months now... I just can't stop thinking how wrong this all is, even though we're both adults and consenting... But there’s something so incredibly guilty inside me that eats away at me daily.