This might sound shocking, even offensive to some, but my marriage was saved and ultimately strengthened by an emotional affair that spanned several years. Before you come for me, let me be clear: I am not proud of it. Despite the emotional comfort it gave me at the time, it was also one of the darkest, most mentally exhausting periods of my life. Despite finding some form of healing through journaling, no amount of writing changed the fact that I lived with constant guilt and an awful sense of remorse.

Let me give you some context. I married my secondary school sweetheart at 24. That might seem young to some, but we were sure of ourselves and of our love. Not long after the wedding, I fell pregnant with twins, and life took an unexpected turn. From battling postnatal depression to feeling buried under the responsibilities of motherhood and housework, my world turned upside down. My husband and I began to struggle. We were growing apart. Life was hard, and definitely not what I had envisioned.

In the thick of all this, a male friend from church – someone I wasn’t even close to at the time – reached out after hearing I’d had twins. We started talking. What began as a casual, friendly exchange slowly evolved into something deeper. We shared our struggles, our hopes, our frustrations. He was in a relationship he wasn’t sure about, and I was navigating the emotional chaos of early motherhood and marital tension. We became each other’s safe space.

Soon, I began to feel uneasy. I was growing close to someone who wasn’t mine. But the more we spoke, the more I craved his presence. We became emotionally attached, addicted even. Eventually, we confessed our feelings to each other. That moment felt both exhilarating and terrifying. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t deny the truth anymore.

Even though we never crossed a physical line, the emotional intimacy was undeniable. We talked daily, sometimes about serious topics, sometimes about trivial everyday things like current affairs or politics. He broke up with his girlfriend around that time, and I continued to work through the ups and downs of my marriage. Having him in my life gave me something to look forward to. He brought excitement and ease into my otherwise draining days.

But then, the connection began to fade. I can’t say who pulled away first or even why it happened, it just did. And I was relieved. After all, I was still a married woman, a Christian one at that, and I had no intention of actually having an affair. I just didn’t know how to stop what had already begun.

Years later, our paths crossed again. A mutual friend was throwing a birthday dinner at a restaurant in West London, and we both showed up. We hadn’t spoken in years, but the moment I saw him, something flickered inside me. We barely exchanged words – just polite small talk and a few shy glances. I learned he was now married. I didn’t even know; we had lost touch, and I wasn’t following him on social media anymore.

Hearing he was married came as a shock to me. I thought it would finally be the end. I thought it would close that chapter for good. I was wrong.

That same night, he followed me on Instagram. I followed him back. And just like that, we picked up where we had left off.

What followed was an emotional whirlwind. We opened up again, admitted that our feelings had never truly disappeared. This time, everything felt even more intense. I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. I loved my husband. Why was I doing this? Why was I betraying everything I stood for – loyalty, fidelity, faith?

Yet, we couldn’t get enough of each other. He was the first person I thought of in the morning and the last before bed. We messaged constantly. He became my confidant all over again; he really was my emotional escape. He helped me navigate issues in my marriage, and I helped him with his. He gave me a male perspective that, strangely, brought clarity to some of my conflicts at home. Somehow, his presence made me a better wife. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it was real.

We even argued like a couple. It was a secret, emotionally charged relationship. Addictive. Intoxicating. At times, I’ll admit – things got sexual via text. But still, never physical because we never ever met up in real life. I wouldn’t have allowed it. I once asked him how he would describe us. He couldn’t answer. We were lovers who had never crossed the “physical” line, but there was definitely sexual tension and an emotional bond between us. Maybe we were just two people who cared deeply, found solace in each other, and knew we would never take it further because we still loved our spouses. And maybe that’s what made us feel safe.

This emotional affair lasted a couple more years. We never saw each other again in person. But the bond stayed strong until we finally agreed to end it. When we did, I felt a deep void, but also a huge relief.

If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t entertain that friendship again. The moment I realised I had feelings for him should have been the moment I stepped away. But I didn’t. I was caught in a cycle, and it took me years to break free. Ultimately, I realised I loved my husband too much to keep doing this. I had to return to my principles and values.

Today, I’m in a much better place. Yes, I feel remorse. But I also feel peace. I’m no longer bound by that secret, no longer emotionally torn between two lives. I confessed everything to my husband. We separated for a couple of months, but found our way back to each other after I repented and promised to never let anything like that happen again.

My husband has a heart of gold. He understood we had gone through hell at one point in our marriage and forgave me. The difficulties we encontered in our marriage don’t excuse or justify what I did, but they do provide some context around as to why I fell into the virtual arms of another man, who at the time felt like a safe space and a good sounding board. And while there are moments I feel I don’t deserve my husband, I’m grateful for his grace. Our love was worth fighting for.