If it wasn't for our divorce case this is what I'd really send her might after the divorce is finalized though

I GAVE YOU TWELVE FUCKING YEARS.

TWELVE.

FUCKING.

YEARS.

My heart. My loyalty. My time. My love. My entire fucking soul. I gave you everything I had. You weren't just my wife. You were my fucking EVERYTHING. My life. My home. My family. The person I looked at and genuinely believed was my soulmate. I thought you were the woman I was going to grow old with. I thought we'd raise our boys together, build our home together, chase our dreams together, fight through the bullshit together, and one day look back at all the shit we survived and say, “Holy fuck, we actually made it.”

AND YOU THREW IT ALL THE FUCK AWAY.

You took twelve fucking years of my life and threw them into the dirt like they meant absolutely nothing.

And right now?

I HATE YOU.

I hate you so fucking much that I can feel the anger in my blood. I can't even look at what you've become without wondering where the hell the woman I loved went.

Because I don't fucking recognize you anymore.

You want to talk about accountability?

WHERE THE FUCK IS YOURS?

You refuse to take a single fucking shred of accountability for what you've done while somehow expecting me to spend the rest of my life answering for every mistake I've ever made.

You want to hold my past over my fucking head forever, but somehow I'm not allowed to look at what YOU did?

That's the biggest fucking hypocritical bullshit I've ever heard.

YOU LOOKED ME STRAIGHT IN THE FUCKING FACE AND DENIED THERE WAS ANYTHING GOING ON BETWEEN YOU AND CHRIS.

You told me there was nothing going on between you two.

And I believed you.

I fucking believed my wife.

Then everything I later saw—the messages, the sexual conversations, the nudes, the hotels, calling him “my husband,” and eventually you moving into his fucking house—made those words impossible for me to believe anymore.

The same Chris you told me was just a friend.

The same Chris you swore there was nothing going on with.

The same Chris you admitted you had an emotional affair with.

The same Chris you sent fucking nudes to.

The same Chris you had sexual conversations with through Discord and IMVU.

The same Chris you gave a fucking strip tease to.

The same Chris you called your HUSBAND.

And I'm supposed to sit here and pretend all of that was fucking innocent?

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

You made me feel like I was fucking crazy for questioning it.

You made me feel like I was paranoid.

You made me feel like I was the problem for wanting answers.

AND THEN YOU MOVED INTO HIS FUCKING HOUSE.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO THINK?

I wanted the truth.

THE FUCKING TRUTH.

That's all I wanted.

Instead, you ran.

You hid.

You blocked me.

You shut me out.

You refused to face me like an adult after TWELVE FUCKING YEARS TOGETHER.

And the fucking irony is that you called the police and had me put in a mental ward when I was at one of the lowest points of my entire life, and then you went straight into the home of the very fucking man I'd been telling you I didn't trust.

Do you have ANY FUCKING IDEA what that did to me?

You want to call me a manipulator?

Fine.

But our counselor literally called out manipulative behavior from Chris.

Yet somehow my pain is manipulation while everything surrounding this relationship gets an excuse.

FUCK THAT.

I'm not saying that makes everything I did right.

IT DOESN'T.

I've admitted where I fucked up.

I've admitted where I hurt you.

I've admitted where I crossed lines.

I've admitted where I should have done better.

But apparently I'm the only fucking person in this marriage who is expected to do that.

NO.

You don't get to demand accountability from me while hiding from your own.

And let's talk about your eleven fucking boundaries.

ELEVEN.

From my perspective, those boundaries felt like they were protecting your relationship with Chris while I was expected to fucking swallow everything.

Meanwhile, I had ONE.

ONE FUCKING BOUNDARY.

CUT CHRIS OUT OF YOUR LIFE.

That's it.

I never told you to stop talking to Twinah.

I never told you to stop talking to your friends.

I never told you to isolate yourself.

I never told you that you weren't allowed to have friends.

MY FUCKING BOUNDARY WAS CHRIS.

The man at the center of the betrayal.

And somehow THAT became “you want me to stop talking to everybody.”

NO.

I WANTED ONE FUCKING PERSON OUT.

The person I had every reason not to trust.

You told me you were done with self-sabotaging.

THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU KEEP MAKING CHOICES THAT WERE SABOTAGING OUR MARRIAGE?

Our counselor told you that for your own mental health you needed to cut Chris out.

I can admit the counselor told ME that I needed to respect your boundaries.

AND I SHOULD HAVE.

That's my fucking accountability.

But WHERE THE FUCK WAS YOUR RESPECT FOR MINE?

He told you that you needed to respect mine too.

Yet Chris stayed.

The connection stayed.

The hotels happened.

The conversations happened.

And somehow I was supposed to sit there and magically trust you.

TRUST DOESN'T FUCKING WORK THAT WAY.

You destroyed it.

Then demanded I act like it never happened.

Yes, you locked your door when you slept in that hotel room.

Fine.

But WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED BEFORE YOU WENT TO SLEEP?

What happened before that door was locked?

How the fuck was I supposed to know?

How was I supposed to trust a situation involving the same man you were emotionally and sexually involved with?

You don't get to destroy someone's trust and then demand they magically manufacture it again.

And then there's the fucking Dallas trip.

You said you were going to Dallas to “reflect.”

REFLECT ON WHAT?

The marriage?

Your feelings?

Whether you wanted to stay?

Because from where I'm standing now, knowing everything I know about Chris, the hotels, the messages, and the relationship developing between you two, that “reflection” story looks like a fucking excuse to spend time with him.

You want me to believe it was innocent?

AFTER ALL OF THAT?

FUCKING NO.

Then there's the McDonald's bullshit.

Chris picked you up.

You supposedly went to McDonald's.

A FUCKING MCDONALD'S TRIP.

And somehow that shit turned into roughly TWO FUCKING HOURS.

You came back with the food.

You never even fucking touched it.

You supposedly spent all that time sitting in some random parking lot just “talking.”

At the time, I was worried you had gotten into a fucking car accident.

I WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU.

I thought something had happened.

And now?

After seeing the messages dating back to July of last year?

After seeing what was developing between you and Chris?

YOU WANT ME TO BELIEVE YOU JUST SAT THERE AND TALKED FOR TWO FUCKING HOURS?

I DON'T FUCKING BUY IT.

Maybe that's what you told me.

But I don't believe it anymore.

Then there was the fucking Chris and Finrer bullshit.

You had me believing they were two different fucking people when, from what I eventually discovered, they were the same person.

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THAT FUCKING DID TO MY HEAD?

I was trying to piece together what the hell was happening while believing I was dealing with two completely different people.

And then I'm supposed to trust every other explanation you gave me?

HOW?

FUCKING HOW?

Then I saw the messages.

The nudes.

The sexual conversations.

The strip tease.

Discord.

IMVU.

And then the Instagram message about him enjoying the view of you sucking him off.

You told me the IMVU thing was a fucking trap.

You told me it was online roleplay.

But that Instagram message didn't read like some innocent fucking roleplay to me.

And knowing about the hotels made it even harder to believe.

Then I saw you wish him:

“GOOD MORNING, MY HUSBAND.”

MY FUCKING WIFE.

CALLING ANOTHER MAN HER HUSBAND.

And somehow I'M the one who was supposedly just paranoid?

NO.

FUCKING.

NO.

And then you want to compare all of that to me hooking up with a friend during the week you were already planning your exit.

I'm not saying what I did was right.

I'M NOT.

But the hypocrisy is fucking unbelievable.

You were already planning to leave.

You were already preparing your exit.

You were already emotionally invested somewhere else.

And somehow my mistake during that final week became the fucking centerpiece.

You were sending another man nudes.

Having sexual conversations with him.

Giving him sexual attention.

Calling him your husband.

Staying in hotels with him.

And eventually moving into his fucking house.

BUT I'M THE ONE WHO DOESN'T UNDERSTAND BOUNDARIES?

FUCKING RIDICULOUS.

And let's not forget Sam.

After that, I should have dropped you like a fucking rock.

I SHOULD HAVE WALKED AWAY.

My biggest fucking regret is that I didn't.

I stayed.

I forgave you.

I believed in you.

I believed our marriage was worth fighting for.

I kept choosing you.

And maybe that was my biggest fucking mistake.

Because now I'm sitting here wondering why the fuck I kept choosing someone who eventually chose somebody else.

And don't EVER tell me I didn't care about you.

If I didn't care, WHY THE FUCK DID I HATE WATCHING YOU TEAR YOURSELF APART?

Why did I hate hearing you constantly talk negatively about yourself?

Why did I keep trying to cheer you up?

Why did I keep trying to push you to believe in yourself?

Why did I support your fucking dream of becoming a model?

I WAS TRYING TO HELP YOU ACHIEVE YOUR DREAM.

I believed in you.

I wanted to see you succeed.

I wanted to see you proud of yourself.

I wanted to see you look in the mirror and actually fucking like the person staring back.

I supported your promotions.

Every time you got one, I was fucking proud of you.

When you were struggling at your job and wanted to quit, I tried to cheer you up.

I pushed you to better yourself.

I reminded you that you were capable.

I wanted you to succeed.

I wanted you to feel proud.

I wanted you to believe in yourself.

And somehow you turned all of that into me supposedly using you for money.

DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA HOW INSULTING THAT IS?

After your surgery, I took care of you.

I WAS THERE.

I helped you.

I stayed beside you.

I worried about you.

So how the FUCK can you sit there and say I didn't care?

If I didn't care, WHY WAS I THERE?

Why was I worried?

Why did I support your dreams?

Why did I celebrate your accomplishments?

Why did I try to make you feel better?

Why did I hate seeing you hurt?

WHY THE FUCK DID I STAY?

Then there's the Dallas luggage situation.

I wanted to help you with your luggage because I knew your hand was hurting.

You didn't want me to see that Chris was picking you up.

And now, knowing everything I know, that entire fucking situation looks different.

I was worried about your hand.

I wanted to help you.

And Chris sat there while your hand was hurting and didn't even fucking help you with the luggage.

And you're going to tell me I didn't care?

HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?

I was pissed BECAUSE I CARED.

And don't use Eddy as an excuse for a fucking couple-second trip to the vehicle and back into the house.

I KNEW YOUR HAND HURT.

I WANTED TO HELP YOU.

THAT'S WHAT SOMEONE DOES WHEN THEY FUCKING CARE.

Then there's your boss.

You hated that I wanted to talk to him because I was pissed about how he treated you.

He said you walked around your job acting like you were avoiding all consequences for your actions.

You hated hearing that.

WELL LOOK WHERE THE FUCK WE ARE NOW.

Actions have consequences.

You don't get to walk through life believing your choices won't eventually come crashing back down on you.

And now we're both living with the consequences.

Then you tell me I never listened.

ANOTHER FUCKING CONTRADICTION.

If I never listened to you, THEN HOW THE FUCK CAN I LIST YOUR ISSUES WITH ME?

How can I remember what hurt you?

How can I remember what you told me you needed?

How can I remember your complaints?

How can I point out contradictions in the things you've told me?

I FUCKING LISTENED.

Did I always understand?

No.

Did I always respond correctly?

No.

Did I always handle things the way I should have?

FUCK NO.

But don't confuse me not agreeing with you with me not fucking listening.

You told me my feelings were “woe is me.”

You said I was playing the victim.

NO.

I WAS FUCKING HURTING.

There's a difference.

I was trying to get the woman I loved to understand why I was falling apart.

And there were times I was trying to explain my pain while you were fucking playing video games or talking to your friends.

DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING FRUSTRATING THAT WAS?

I was sitting there trying to explain why I was hurting.

Trying to explain why I was struggling.

Trying to explain why Chris destroyed my trust.

And you were fucking blowing me off.

I didn't need you to fix everything.

I NEEDED YOU TO FUCKING LISTEN.

And when you didn't, I felt emotionally neglected.

You want to accuse me of emotional neglect?

FINE.

But what you did to me felt like emotional neglect too.

I was trying to communicate.

I felt ignored.

I felt dismissed.

I was trying to save our marriage while feeling like you had already emotionally fucking left it.

And then there was my PDD-NOS.

You told me I was using it as a fucking crutch.

I wasn't trying to use it as an excuse.

I was trying to explain myself.

I was trying to help you understand how I experience things.

And if you're going to sit there and tell me I use my autism as a crutch, then WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO TELL DANTE?

HE'S AUTISTIC.

If you can't understand MY autism, what makes you think you have any business telling our son his autism is an excuse?

What happens when he struggles?

What happens when he has a meltdown?

What happens when he can't communicate?

I don't want him growing up thinking his brain is something he should be ashamed of.

I want him to know he's worthy of patience.

He's worthy of understanding.

He's worthy of love.

And here's ANOTHER FUCKING CONTRADICTION.

You didn't want me talking to my friends about what was happening between us.

BUT YOU COULD GO TO CHRIS AND TALK TO HIM ABOUT OUR FUCKING PROBLEMS?

You could discuss our marriage with the one man who was becoming involved with you?

Meanwhile, I was supposed to sit there and bottle everything up?

THAT'S FUCKING ISOLATING.

You had someone to talk to while I was expected to keep my pain to myself.

And I NEVER told you to stop talking to Twinah.

NEVER.

My boundary was CHRIS.

ONE PERSON.

And somehow that became “you want me to stop talking to everybody.”

NO.

I DIDN'T.

I wanted the person destroying our trust gone.

And then you tell me I need to respect your boundaries.

AND I AGREE.

I SHOULD HAVE.

But boundaries don't fucking work one way.

If yours matter, mine matter.

If mine matter, yours matter.

And yes, I broke your shit.

I FUCKING DID.

I was furious.

I was betrayed.

I was overwhelmed.

I took my frustration out on things Chris gave you.

THAT WAS WRONG.

I OWN THAT.

I should have handled my anger differently.

But don't fucking pretend the anger came from nowhere.

Those things represented him.

They represented what I believed was happening behind my back.

I wanted those fucking reminders gone.

I wanted them OUT OF MY LIFE.

You want me to take accountability?

HERE I FUCKING AM.

I can tell you where I fucked up.

I can tell you where I hurt you.

I can tell you where I crossed lines.

I can tell you where I should have done better.

But accountability doesn't mean I have to accept every accusation you throw at me while pretending you did nothing wrong.

I can admit where I was wrong AND say you were wrong.

BOTH THINGS CAN FUCKING EXIST AT THE SAME TIME.

And yes, I went through your messages.

I know you didn't like that.

I know checking your phone and going through your messages was an invasion of your privacy.

I can fucking own that.

But don't pretend I did it because I just wanted to control you.

I did it because my trust was fucking destroyed and I was desperate for answers.

I was terrified that what I was being told wasn't the truth.

I wanted to know what was actually happening.

That doesn't make going through your shit right.

I KNOW THAT.

But don't fucking pretend there wasn't a reason I became desperate enough to do it.

I wasn't looking because I wanted to find something wrong with you.

I was looking because I was scared there was something you weren't telling me.

And then what I found made everything worse.

That's the fucking part you don't understand.

The more I saw, the less I knew what was real.

You want me to trust you after my trust was destroyed?

HOW?

You want me to pretend I didn't see anything?

HOW?

You want me to just forget the messages?

HOW?

Then you tell me you were done self-sabotaging.

THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU KEEP MAKING CHOICES THAT WERE SABOTAGING OUR MARRIAGE?

You told me you were done hurting yourself.

You told me you wanted something different.

You told me you wanted peace.

Yet you continued with the one relationship that had become the biggest source of conflict between us.

And then you moved into his fucking house.

How the hell am I supposed to look at that and believe this was all just innocent?

I'm not saying my actions were justified because I was hurt.

They weren't.

I'm saying my pain didn't come from fucking nowhere.

And people have even asked, “If he was really that abusive and toxic, why did she leave the kids with him?”

I'm not using that to erase anything you experienced.

But I know how much I love our boys.

I want them safe.

I want them happy.

I want them stable.

I want them to know both parents love them.

I don't want them caught in the middle of this fucking war.

I don't want them choosing sides.

I don't want them carrying our pain.

And that's why I'm trying to fucking stop.

Because this isn't just about you and me anymore.

It's about them.

And that's what makes this even more fucking heartbreaking.

You weren't just my wife.

You were the mother of my children.

You were my family.

You were my home.

And I thought we'd grow old together.

Then you told me you never wanted to marry me.

THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SAY YES?

Why did you accept my proposal?

Why did you let me believe in us?

Why did you build a family with me?

Why did you make promises?

Why did you let me spend TWELVE FUCKING YEARS believing you were my soulmate?

I can't answer those questions.

ONLY YOU CAN.

And that's what fucking hurts.

Because I don't know which version of you was real anymore.

Was it the woman who supported me?

Was it the woman who told me she loved me?

Was it the woman who built a family with me?

Or was it the woman secretly building something with Chris while looking me straight in the fucking face and telling me nothing was happening?

I DON'T FUCKING KNOW ANYMORE.

And THAT'S what you destroyed.

TRUST.

You didn't just break my heart.

You fucked with my entire perception of reality.

You made me question my memories.

You made me question my judgment.

You made me question what was real.

You made me question whether the woman I loved for twelve fucking years ever saw our relationship the way I did.

And then you want to tell me I didn't put effort into our marriage?

WE WERE TRYING TO SAVE FOR A HOUSE.

We were struggling with bills.

We were trying to build toward something.

And then Chris offered you a house and suddenly the struggle wasn't worth fighting through anymore.

You took the fucking easy way out.

We were trying to save.

We were trying to make it work.

And instead of continuing to build with me, you took what another man offered.

AND NOW YOU LIVE WITH HIM.

The same man you told me was nothing.

The same man you told me I shouldn't worry about.

The same man you defended.

The same man I begged you to cut contact with.

The same man our counselor told you to separate from for your own mental health.

AND YOU CHOSE HIM ANYWAY.

THAT'S FUCKING BETRAYAL.

You can call it whatever the fuck you want.

But that's what it feels like.

And you want to know what makes your behavior LOOK narcissistic to me?

I'M NOT FUCKING DIAGNOSING YOU.

I'm talking about the pattern I experienced.

The double standards.

The constant shifting of blame.

The way my pain becomes manipulation while your pain becomes justification.

The way my mistakes become permanent evidence against me while your mistakes get explanations.

The way you demand accountability from me while avoiding your own.

The way you can hurt me and then somehow make MY REACTION to that hurt the centerpiece of the conversation.

The way everything somehow comes back to what I did while what you did becomes an afterthought.

THAT'S WHAT FUCKING DRIVES ME INSANE.

And I know I wasn't perfect.

I KNOW I HURT YOU.

I know my past matters.

I know there are things I should have done differently.

But I refuse to accept that I was the only person who contributed to destroying this marriage.

I refuse to carry every fucking ounce of blame while you walk away into another man's house.

I refuse to pretend Chris had nothing to do with this when he became one of the central figures in the collapse of our marriage.

I refuse to pretend your emotional affair wasn't cheating.

I refuse to pretend the sexual conversations, nudes, strip tease, messages, hotels, and “my husband” message don't fucking matter.

I refuse to pretend the Dallas trip doesn't look suspicious.

I refuse to pretend the two-hour McDonald's trip doesn't look suspicious.

I refuse to pretend the Chris/Finrer situation wasn't deceptive from my perspective.

I refuse to pretend moving into his house doesn't make everything you told me harder to believe.

I refuse to pretend I didn't spend months trying to get you to understand why I was fucking hurting.

I refuse to pretend I didn't support your dreams.

I refuse to pretend I didn't take care of you after surgery.

I refuse to pretend I wasn't proud of your promotions.

I refuse to pretend I wasn't there when you were struggling at work.

I refuse to pretend I wasn't there when you hated yourself.

I refuse to pretend I didn't love you.

BECAUSE I FUCKING DID.

I loved you more than anything.

I saw you as my soulmate.

I saw you as my wife.

I saw you as the mother of my children.

I saw you as the person I was going to spend the rest of my fucking life with.

And maybe that's why I'm this fucking angry.

Because underneath all of this rage is grief.

FUCKING GRIEF.

I'm grieving the woman I thought you were.

I'm grieving the marriage I thought we had.

I'm grieving the future I thought we were building.

I'm grieving the family I thought we'd grow old together with.

I'm grieving TWELVE FUCKING YEARS.

And I hate that part of me still fucking cares.

I hate that part of me still remembers the good.

I hate that after everything, I still remember why I loved you.

Because it would be so much fucking easier if I could just hate you and feel nothing.

BUT I CAN'T.

That's the fucking truth.

I am furious with you.

I am betrayed by you.

I am hurt by you.

I hate what you've done.

I hate what this has done to our family.

I hate what this has done to me.

But the reason every fucking piece of this hurts so badly is because once upon a time, I would have done almost anything for you.

I gave you twelve years.

My heart.

My loyalty.

My time.

My love.

MY FUCKING SOUL.

And I thought you were giving me yours too.

That's the fucking part I don't know how the fuck to forgive.

Not because I think I'm perfect.

Not because I think you're responsible for every problem we ever had.

But because I believed we were supposed to fight through the hard shit TOGETHER.

And when things got hard, you didn't fight beside me.

You found another man.

You built another relationship.

You found another home.

And then you walked the fuck away.

THAT'S WHAT BROKE ME.

Maybe someday I'll be able to look back at all of this without this much rage.

Maybe someday I'll understand why you made the choices you made.

Maybe someday I'll forgive myself for the things I did wrong.

Maybe someday I'll forgive you for the things you did to me.

BUT RIGHT NOW?

I'M FUCKING ANGRY.

I'M FUCKING HEARTBROKEN.

I'M FUCKING LOST.

Because I didn't want another woman.

I wanted YOU.

I wanted my wife.

I wanted my family.

I wanted the future I thought we were building.

And you threw that fucking future away.

So don't EVER tell me I didn't care.

Don't EVER tell me I didn't fight.

Don't EVER tell me I didn't listen.

Don't EVER tell me I didn't support you.

Don't EVER tell me I didn't love you.

Because whatever else happened between us, whatever mistakes I made, whatever failures you believe I had—

I FUCKING LOVED YOU.

And that's exactly why losing you feels like someone ripped twelve fucking years of my life straight out of my chest.

Because you weren't just somebody I dated.

YOU WERE MY FUCKING WIFE.

You were my home.

You were the person I thought I'd die old beside.

And now I'm standing in the fucking wreckage of everything I thought was real, trying to figure out how twelve years of my life ended up meaning so fucking little to the person I gave them to.

THAT'S THE FUCKING PART I CAN'T ACCEPT.