My world is spinning. I can’t decide whether I am suffocating or about to vomit. Lady S… The elusive “other woman” isn’t just anyone. She is my supervisor.

How long has this been going on? Six months? That’s how long my husband has been unusually cheerful, suddenly attentive, after years of being cold. Six months of strange happiness must mean six months of her. But when did they actually meet?

I remember mentioning her to him ages ago, telling him how she guided me through my emotions, how she kept me grounded whenever I felt overwhelmed by my clients’ stories. That was before he stopped talking to me altogether. For the past year, there has been nothing between us; no conversation, no intimacy, just silence and fatigue. I couldn’t even probe him anymore. I was too exhausted. Too burnt out from work. Too hollow. I know I should have put in more effort and should have fought harder to keep the spark alive. But he didn’t fight either. After ten years of marriage, we both just grew tired. Bored.

So maybe I am not actually surprised that he cheated. I think I always knew it was a matter of time. But why must it be with her? With my supervisor? 

Last night, I couldn’t stop myself. I read their emails. I know it’s wrong. everything about this is wrong. And that’s when the lump rose in my throat. They weren’t just romantic. They were erotic. Words dripping with intimacy I haven’t known in years. I don’t need proof; the way they wrote to each other tells me all I need to know. They’ve crossed that line. They have had intimacy.

And I almost laughed; bitter, hollow laughter. Smart of him, really. Not to use texts or whatsApp. Emails instead, as though that makes it invisible. As though I wouldn’t find it.

I wanted to storm into their lives, to confront them, to scream, to claw at their carefully spun lies until everything shattered. I wanted to go insane, to let madness do the work for me. But no… That would be too easy.

They don’t deserve easy.

I want them to hurt. To taste the same poison they poured into me. To drown in the same betrayal that is choking me now. I want their hearts to crack, their peace to be destroyed, their nights to be sleepless. I want them to suffer more than I am suffering.

And if I want that, I have to be careful. I can’t let them know that I know. Not yet. If I confront them now, I lose my power. But if I keep their secret, if I play along, if I smile and nod and let them think they’re safe… Then I can strategise.

I don’t care about being the bigger person. I don’t care about forgiveness or dignity or walking away gracefully. I am not noble. I am hurting too much for any nobility.

I want war. And I will make them bleed.

NAME (PSEUDONYM) : Nurul Aini 

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