Cheating And Regret Novels & Stories

She reached for the buttons of my shirt, intending to undress me — but I caught her hands before she could continue. “I’m fine like this,” I said quietly. I couldn’t take off my dress. Not because of her — I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her face. The guilt clawed at me, heavy and unrelenting. So I turned her around instead, unable to face her, and fucked her hard while she braced herself against the table for support. But even as I moved, all I could think about was Dianne. Every thrust deepened my regret. Was this cheating? Could it even be called that when we weren’t in a relationship anymore? Were we even in a relationship to start with?

“Mr. Morgan, what exactly do you regret most about your actions?” I hesitated, the question hitting a nerve I hadn’t prepared for. “I regret not believing in the woman I vowed to protect and cherish. I regret choosing doubt over trust. And I regret letting someone else’s lies drive a wedge between us.” Another reporter jumped in before I could fully compose myself. “Do you think the public perception of you as a cheating husband is fair?”

“Oh, didn’t he tell you? We were mated before. Claiming marks and everything. But we broke up.” Nash had never mentioned an ex to me, but then again, we didn’t spend much time talking about our pasts. “I see,” is all I can say. “And let me tell you,” Regan continues, twisting her straight brown hair around one finger, “he wasn’t exactly the best mate, if you know what I mean.” “I don’t, actually.” “He cheated on me,” Regan says. “Tons of times. He was always making me cry, then running off to some other girl. Watch out for that Juliana - she’s always wanted to steal him away.”

And yet, the impact reverberated through me as though I had shattered every part of the careful life I had constructed. I tried to steady myself, pulling the sheet closer to my chest. I thought if Max, my husband, and guilt, flared, sharp and hot in me. His name was a tether I could no longer ignore. I had cheated. Not just physically, but emotionally, with every part of my body that had cried out for Julian’s touch. And worse, I hadn’t regretted a single moment. A champagne cork rolled lazily across the floor, like we’d celebrated something. Like we’d won.

It’s frustrating, but in a way, it feels like the natural consequence of her own doing. During the ordeal, I should have felt some sort of remorse when we had to restrain her to collect the sample. But instead, all I felt was a pressing desire to have this tangled mess out of my life. I desperately want my wife, Shelly, and my sons back with me. But that's a distant possibility, given how they're holed up in an apartment in town a decision Shelly made for space after she caught me cheating. Oh, how I regret that mistake! Cheating on her with CeCe was a grievous error in judgment, driven by hurt and confusion. Instead of seeking solace in a conversation with Shelly.

Because I wanted to prove a stupid point. I knew she was cheating on me. Deep inside I knew that, but I didn’t want to accept that. Accepting it meant that I had to admit that I was wrong. Wrong for allowing my pride to get in the way. Wrong for allowing her to sink her claws into me after she broke me the first time. Wrong for choosing her over Ren. I will always regret holding myself back with Lauren. I will always regret how I treated her and I will always hate myself for the pain I caused her.

"You can't do that. You can't act as though we're. significant to each other. Not anymore." A brief look of something crossed his eyes—maybe it was hurt. But it didn't matter much. It would never matter enough. "I know I hurt you." I gave him a scornful laugh. "That's an understatement." He glanced down for a moment, then for the right words to say. "I regret it." I stiffened. Regret. Such a simple word for something that had destroyed me. "Do you regret it?" I asked quietly but firmly. "Do you regret cheating on me? Do you regret lying? Or do you regret that our son is dead because of you?"

My tone was steady, as though I were merely stating a fact. Silas’s face drained of all color. He knew, deep down, that it was his own doing—the trust he shattered with his own hands. He clutched my arm like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. “We still have time. We have so much time ahead of us. Please…” I shook my head. “Silas, the marks of hurt never fade. When you refused to save Yael, when you accused and berated him without listening, it was already over. You made sure there wasn’t enough time for us.”

“ I thought that I would let you be and keep to myself but I realise now that it was a mistake. I should have confronted you about the welcome party you threw for her when you said you were going to attend a gala. I was an idiot for believing whatever you say. In a sense, this is my fault. I didn't even mention that I wasn't feeling well and I missed my parents. In case you forgot, my parents died. They have been gone for a long time and this is where they are buried. That is why I came here to visit them. I'm not some crazy stalker like you think but yeah, you can think whatever. I don't care anymore. You can continue taking care of Anna. She matters more to you than I do.” I lost my compos

I still couldn’t let go of the reports that tormented me daily. And Everett—the person at the center of everything—let it all run its course. Even if he hadn’t cheated, his silent acceptance as a husband was infuriating.