They call women like me homewreckers.
It’s a title I never asked for, but somehow, I’m the only one who has to always wear it.
He gets to move on and create a new life where people still respect him, love him, and make room for his mistakes.
I became the mistake.
Now, I’m trying to rebuild a life with the name everyone else decided belonged to me. I’m trying to figure out who I am when the worst thing I’ve ever done becomes the only thing people care to know about me.
I’m not asking anyone to forgive me. I learned in therapy that it really doesn’t matter.
But if I have to live with the title of homewrecker, then everyone should at least know the whole story.