I WAS THE OTHER WOMAN, BUT THE WIFE WAS THE ONLY PERSON IN THAT MARRIAGE WHO DIDN'T KNOW HER HUSBAND WAS MISERABLE. The first time he told me he loved me, I laughed.Not because it was funny, but because married men have a talent for making their selfishness sound like a tragedy. He told me his wife didn't understand him. That they barely spoke anymore. That he had spent years feeling lonely beside a woman who was supposed to know him better than anyone. I believed him. Or maybe I simply preferred his version of the story because it made loving him feel less shameful. He remembered how I took my tea. He noticed when my voice changed. He could tell when something was bothering me before I found the words to explain it. And I mistook being understood for being loved. Whenever I asked why he wouldn't leave his wife, he gave me a different reason. Their finances. Their families. The children they were trying for. The timing. There was always a reason to stay married and a promise that he wouldn't stay married forever. I became an expert at surviving on the future. Then, one evening, his wife called me. I expected screaming. Insults. A woman desperate to defend what belonged to her. Instead, she asked if I knew where her husband was because he had promised to take their daughter to the hospital and hadn't returned her calls. I said I didn't know. It was the first honest thing I'd said to her, and even that was a lie. He was beside me. I watched his face change when I ended the call. He didn't look guilty about betraying her. He looked irritated that she'd interrupted us. That was the first crack in the beautiful story I'd built around him. The second came a few weeks later, when I saw a photograph on his phone. His wife was asleep on his shoulder. Their little girl was between them, holding his finger. They looked ordinary. Tired, perhaps. But safe. Under the photograph, he'd written: My girls. My whole world. I stared at those words for so long that he eventually took the phone from me. He said the picture meant nothing. But I couldn't stop wondering how a man could look at two people who trusted him with their lives, then turn around and tell another woman that he was the one suffering. I ended things the next morning. He called me selfish. Said I'd abandoned him when he needed me most. Told me I'd never understand what it was like to be trapped in a marriage without love. I almost went back. That is the part I'm most ashamed of.