At thirty-two, I have been married for ten years. To the outside world, I appear to have everything: a husband who thrives in his career, a bright and adorable child, and a life of comfort and ease. Yet, no one knows that beneath this polished surface, I harbor a secret even I dread—over the decade of my marriage, I have strayed three times, like an addict perpetually testing perilous boundaries, only to plummet into an abyss from which there is no return. My husband, Li Kai, works in the pharmaceutical trade. He is steadfast and devoted to our family, entrusting all our finances to me. His sole "flaw" might be his relentless busyness; he spends years on the road, leaving me alone in our cavernous home to face the solitary nights. Emptiness, like a silent tide, engulfed me little by little.

The Trap of Online Love
My first infidelity occurred after I resigned to care for our child at home. My world abruptly narrowed, and not only was my husband absent, his attentions dwindled too. On that Valentine's Day, I clutched my phone in anticipation, only to end in disappointment as neon lights flickered outside while the house felt eerily desolate. Late into the night, on a whim, I downloaded a dating app. A man named "Drifting Wind" swiftly initiated a conversation. He confided that he had just divorced and was feeling deeply downcast. Bonding over shared loneliness, we grew increasingly intimate with each chat. His wit and warmth filled the void in my heart.
Half a month of late-night talks bred dependency. When he asked for my address again, promising a belated Valentine's gift, my defenses crumbled altogether. Minutes later, the doorbell rang. Outside stood a tall, handsome man holding flowers, precisely as I had imagined. "You're more beautiful than I pictured," he murmured, making my pulse race. Once inside, he embraced me gently. In that instant, my husband's indifference and the daily solitude seemed soothed by this stranger's arms. Reason urged me to resist, but emotion drew me deeper into the abyss.
For the next three days, I lived in a dream. Alas, dreams always end. Three days later, "Drifting Wind" vanished completely—from my life and the app—as if evaporated. Frantically, I sent messages and called, met only with red exclamation marks. Only then did I realize I was merely another target in his online conquest. All that remained was profound shame and a pile of messages to delete. For the first time, I tasted the bitter emptiness that follows passion.

The Seductive Trap of the Fitness Trainer
The first lesson failed to awaken me fully. The thrill of being desired and noticed etched itself into my memory like an addiction. As life settled back into routine, that restless yearning resurfaced.
This time, it was my fitness trainer. At the gym one day, he approached me: "You need to come more often and stay consistent. Skipping workouts won't maintain your figure." I nodded with a smile. Back home, after a shower, I collapsed wearily onto the sofa and reopened the dating app. A nearby user with a landscape photo as his profile engaged me politely. Oddly, he seemed to know me and even my name. When I asked who he was, he evaded the question, and I drifted off to sleep. The next day, he messaged again, inquiring if I had eaten. Jokingly, I asked if he'd treat me. He agreed instantly, booking a restaurant straight away. Minutes later, the trainer called to invite me to dinner. At the restaurant, I wasn't surprised—I had already guessed it was him.
Over the meal, he was effusive, piling food onto my plate. Afterwards, he drove me home and asked, "Why are you on that app? Isn't it for singles?" I replied, "I am single in spirit—my husband is rarely home and pays me no mind." He said nothing, but I saw sympathy and concern in his eyes. Unwilling to return to my cold home, I asked him to take me for a drive. We stopped at a quiet hillside. He clasped my hand gently, his gaze tender. My heart raced, heat flooding me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He held my waist softly as the car windows fogged over... After calming down, I straightened my clothes and stepped out. The mountain air was crisp, and he suggested a hike. Like a docile lamb, I followed him. At the summit, overlooking the city skyline, my spirits lifted.
But six months later, I overheard him flirting with another female member at the gym, using the very words he had spoken to me. When I confronted him, he coolly admitted to maintaining such relationships with several clients. "We each get what we need—why take it seriously?" he said dismissively. My pride was crushed; the "special" bond I imagined was merely his standard service. Humiliated, I canceled all my classes, paying the price for folly once more.

Trading Body for Material Gains
Prolonged isolation at home nearly drove me to madness, so I took a job in real estate sales. I am not unattractive, still in the prime of my charm. My supervisor, Su Youqiang, a man fifteen years my senior, began pursuing me. At first, I resented him, but one evening after drinking with clients, he took me to a hotel. He mentioned seeing me on dating apps and asked if I was divorced. I stayed silent, and he pressed no further. That night, we stayed together, and afterwards he handed me a bank card with a hundred thousand yuan, demanding I become his mistress.
I should have flung the card in his face and called the police. Yet, the thrill of past affairs and the lure of money seized me like twin hands. Mesmerized, I accepted the card and became his caged songbird. For a time, I enjoyed boundless freedom in time and wealth. Su often took me on "business trips" that were thinly veiled vacations. My husband, pleased I was earning, rejoiced; my in-laws handled our child's school runs, freeing me from worries.

Exposure: The End of Everything
This transaction of flesh and dignity lasted a year and a half. Immersed in false opulence, I remained oblivious to the chasm beneath my feet. Su's wife, seemingly docile but shrewd, had noticed anomalies long ago. She hired a private investigator, documenting every "rendezvous" in vivid detail. One day, as I left the office, a group of women surrounded me. Insults and blows rained down as I curled defenseless on the ground. That was only the beginning. That night, the video of my beating, along with all evidence of my infidelity—photos, hotel records, surveillance footage—spread like a virus. My husband Li Kai, my parents, his relatives, even the parent group at my child's school... all received this "grand gift."
Overnight, my reputation lay in ruins. Li Kai rushed home from his travels; this once-gentle man's eyes held only icy despair and shame. Without a word, he placed divorce papers before me. Our child, our home—all were lost to me. I left with nothing. My company fired me for "damaging corporate image." Su's wife reclaimed the hundred thousand yuan and all traceable valuables through legal means. Su himself vanished like a coward. I lost everything: family, child, reputation, job. I became the city's living joke, a woman scorned by all.

A Final Confession
Now, alone in an unfamiliar city, I pen these words. Looking back on this path, I was not born wanton; I lost myself step by step in the void and temptation. I greedily sought attention and passion from without, trying to fill an inner emptiness, unaware it was like drinking poison to quench thirst. I mistook my husband's loyalty for dullness, our stable home for a prison. I thought I pursued love and freedom, but I was merely a slave to desire. Those three affairs were no accidents of fate, but the inevitable tragedy of my character. In exchange for ten years of marriage, I earned exile. This is my just retribution. I pray my story serves as a warning: marriage is a sacred vow; once betrayed, one inevitably plays with fire and burns. And the soul's emptiness can never be filled by fleeting physical delights or material excesses.