The Wounds We Can’t See
1155 Words
Dr. Renee Stratford’s Office, West Hollywood
November 10th, 2022 — 4:17 PM
Dr. Renee Stratford was renowned as one of L.A.’s premier marriage counselors, and her office was exactly what you'd expect, soft calming colors, plush furniture, and the subtle fragrance of lavender and eucalyptus floating gently through the air. Jordan sat stiffly beside me, arms crossed defensively, his normally warm eyes guarded and wary.
Dr. Stratford adjusted her glasses, watching us with calm intensity. “Let’s start simply,” she began gently. “Jordan, Ava why don’t we unpack the main reason you’re both here today?”
Jordan exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. “We’re here because trust was broken. Ava kissed her ex, and I responded by…pulling away.”
“And engaging in pornography?” Dr. Stratford asked neutrally.
Jordan shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. It became…an outlet. It felt easier than dealing with the betrayal.”
Dr. Stratford turned her gentle gaze toward me. “Ava, how did that make you feel?”
I swallowed hard, fingers twisting anxiously. “It hurt deeply. I felt rejected, unwanted. Like I wasn’t enough for him anymore.”
Jordan scoffed softly, eyes filled with quiet hurt. “Imagine how I felt, Ava, knowing my wife, my best friend, kissed another man. One you admitted you’d loved. Did you even once stop to think how it felt to be me?”
Anger and guilt twisted in my stomach, hot tears burning my eyes. “Of course I thought about you, Jordan! That’s why I told you immediately. I never lied.”
Jordan shook his head sharply, frustration evident. “But you still broke something. And just because you didn’t sleep with him doesn’t mean it hurt any less. Emotional betrayal is just as painful.”
Dr. Stratford raised a hand calmly. “Jordan has made a very important point here. Emotional betrayal is often underestimated, but it’s extremely powerful. Ava, do you understand why Jordan felt so betrayed?”
I nodded slowly, feeling my throat tighten. “Because I opened myself back up to Austin. Even just emotionally.”
“Exactly,” Jordan said firmly. “Ava, I’ve always been good to you. I’ve given you everything, a home, stability, support. I didn’t deserve this.”
“I know,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “And I’m so sorry. Truly, Jordan.”
Jordan’s eyes softened slightly, but hurt lingered deeply. “I know you are. But Ava, how would you feel if the roles were reversed? If it had been me?”
I blinked rapidly, the full weight of his pain hitting me hard. “I’d be devastated, Jordan.”
He sighed, leaning forward. “Exactly. That’s why forgiveness is so damn hard right now. Because I know how easily it could’ve turned into something more.”
Dr. Stratford offered a gentle nod. “Trust can be rebuilt, but it takes complete honesty, vulnerability, and effort from both sides. Are you both prepared for that?”
I looked at Jordan, my heart aching. “I am.”
Jordan hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I want to be. But it’s not going to be easy, Ava.”
“No one ever said marriage was easy,” Dr. Stratford said softly, a compassionate smile gracing her lips. “But it can be worth it if both of you decide to fight for it.”
Ava and Jordan’s Home, Los Angeles
December 1st, 2022 — 10:30 PM
Despite therapy, the tension never truly eased. One night, after another strained dinner, Jordan finally exploded, his frustrations pouring out raw and unfiltered.
“Damn it, Ava, why can’t you see that this is still killing me? Therapy isn’t magic, I’m still hurt!” he shouted, pacing the living room.
“Jordan, I said I was sorry!” I cried, voice desperate. “How many times can I apologize for one stupid mistake?”
“As many times as it takes!” he snapped back. “Because I still can’t get past the idea that you could do that to me. I’ve never given you reason to doubt me!”
“Jordan, you’re right,” I said softly, tears streaming down my face. “You’ve always been amazing, but I f****d up. I own it but you have to meet me halfway.”
He sighed deeply, looking up to the ceiling. “I’m trying, Ava. But it feels impossible. I don’t know how to forget it happened.”
I stepped closer, touching his arm gently. “Then don’t forget, just try to forgive. I never stopped loving you. Not once.”
He closed his eyes painfully, whispering softly, “And yet, you still kissed him.”
We stood quietly, the weight of our pain heavy between us, neither sure how to fix something so deeply damaged.
The Lake View Hotel Los Angeles, Penthouse Suite 161
Saturday, August 23rd, 2025 — 3:14 AM
"Damn, Ava," Keisha finally said softly, shaking her head sympathetically. "You really went through it. But if I'm being honest, girl, emotional cheating cuts deep. Jordan had every right to feel how he did.”
Toni nodded firmly, tapping her champagne glass for emphasis. “Exactly. People always underestimate emotional cheating because you didn’t physically sleep with the person, but it’s almost worse.”
“How so?” Nia asked.
“Because physical cheating is easy to define,” Camille explained wisely, adjusting her glasses. “But emotional cheating? It’s sneaky. It feels intimate and deliberate, and the betrayal goes deeper.”
Latrixa’s amber eyes locked sharply onto mine. “Jordan knew you still loved Austin, even if you didn’t act on it sexually. It’s the betrayal of your heart that’s hardest to forgive.”
I sighed. “I understand that now. At the time, I was so busy defending myself, I didn’t fully grasp how deep Jordan’s hurt ran.”
Keisha reached over, patting my hand gently. “And that’s understandable, Ava. You’re human. But girl, emotional cheating is a slow poison. It eats away at trust until there’s nothing left.”
“I see that now,” I admitted quietly, guilt coloring my words. “And I deserved the backlash. I earned every bit of it.”
Camille’s eyes softened with gentle sympathy. “But the fact that you’re sitting here, admitting it openly? That’s growth, Ava. Healing starts by owning your mistakes.”
I nodded slowly, taking a shaky breath. “But owning it doesn’t erase the pain I caused. Jordan was a good man, and I broke his heart. Sometimes, the wounds we can’t see hurt the most.”
The room grew quiet, heavy with understanding and reflection. Finally, Toni poured another round, lifting her glass toward me with a supportive smile.
“Here’s to growth, Ava. It ain’t always easy—but damn if it ain’t necessary.”
And as we raised our glasses in quiet solidarity, I knew the hardest truths were still ahead.
- Writer
