I love you more than any person I’ve ever met. That is the only reason I didn’t break up with you. I absolutely hate that you slept with her and then lied about it. I hate that it happened the night that we decided to officially become a couple. I hate that whenever I look at your bed or am in your bed, I can see it happening. I hate that I knew it that night, that I could smell it on you, and that I said nothing, because I was already too afraid to lose you. And I hate that every decision we’ve made about our relationship since then seems tainted by the lie. I hate that I couldn’t break up with you. I hate that you don’t understand how much I’m still hurting and that crying in front of you makes you feel like shit, because I know that you’re truly sorry and I know that you didn’t tell me because you regretted it. I know that we weren’t together when it happened, but I hate that I know exactly when it happened, because the timeline of that night is burned so clearly in my mind. And I hate her. I hate that I hate her.
I don’t know if we can survive this, which makes it even worse, because I was pretty sure you were the man I would spend the rest of my life with.