Was I the Other Women? When Betrayal Isn’t So Black and White

June 18, 2025

A true story of betrayal, blurred roles, and the kind of trauma that isn’t always visible

When betrayal is slow and intimate, it doesn’t feel like betrayal. It feels like confusion. This story—blended with trauma theory—offers clarity for anyone still piecing together the truth.

Note: This story was written with the permission—and almost the insistence—of the client involved. She wanted it shared because sometimes the truth feels so convoluted, so surreal, that you need to see it laid bare to believe yourself again.

When does one begin the other woman?

It’s a question that haunted one of my clients—not in rage, but in quiet disbelief. She wasn’t the one having an affair. She was the legal wife. The mother. The one who filed for divorce. The one who insisted, over and over, that the trust had been eroded.

But when the full truth surfaced, it came with a question that lodged itself deep in her chest: If they were already together… and I was still around… was I the other woman?

The Backstory: Emotional Infidelity and False Reconciliations

Years ago, she discovered a secret friendship—harmless on the surface. A colleague. Long calls. Not disclosed. Brushed off as emotional infidelity, yes, but they chose to work through it.

Promises were made. Therapy was tried. Words like “transparency” and “reconnection” were passed between them like sacred pacts.

Neither of them kept those promises. Still, they stayed. Or at least, they tried.

The Present Day: Divorce, Co-Parenting, and a Quiet Undoing

They had separated. Only slept in separate homes. Signed divorce papers more than 2 years after he left with just a pillow and blanket. She even joked that her lawyer was more worried about the man refusing to give her the divorce.

But the separation wasn’t clean. He showed up every day. Spent time with their daughter. Went on holidays with her. Made Sunday family lunches a thing. He was given a choice—if he wanted to stay around and be present in their child’s life, he only had to commit to one thing: call their child every day if he could not meet her—and he honoured it.

It felt amicable. Grown up. Even healthy.

And then she found out he had been in a relationship for the past 18 months. With the same colleague. His colleague had no idea that he still spent his evenings with his wife and child. Who thought the wife was emotionally unstable, manipulative, distant, cruel even.

And suddenly, the narrative collapsed.

The Mind Games: “You Were Hormonal. I Was Lonely.”

He claimed it was just sex. He claimed she chased him. He claimed he had no one to talk to when she was “too hormonal” post-delivery.

But the receipts said otherwise. There were hotel bookings. Weekend trips. Messages. And one-night stands that weren’t just one night. This wasn’t a fling. It was another life.

He told the other woman he was divorced—18 months before the legal divorce ever went through.

And yet, every evening, he came home. Ate at her table. Called her his “wife” (even post their divorce), told her he loves her, and “co-parent.” Asked her to trust him again.

So when she found out, she didn’t explode. She unraveled.

Why I’m Writing This

Because sometimes, real life reads like a movie. There’s suspense, deceit, dual lives, even emotional stunts that leave you questioning your own memory.

But this isn’t fiction. And the most disorienting part of betrayal is not the moment you find out—it’s the months, sometimes years, you spent not knowing, but feeling something was off.

We hope for decency. We hope that people we’ve loved will at least be honest.

But sometimes, the most decent thing you can do… is be honest with yourself. And smell the coffee.

What Trauma Theory Tells Us About This Kind of Betrayal

This wasn’t just infidelity. It was emotional erosion. And trauma theory helps us understand why her confusion wasn’t a flaw—it was a symptom.

1. Betrayal Trauma Theory (Freyd, 1996)

When the person you rely on for stability betrays you, your brain sometimes protects you by not fully registering the betrayal. This is survival.

She had to believe him, to keep co-parenting, to keep moving forward. The cost? Her clarity.

2. Trauma Bonding (Dutton & Painter, 1993)

When love and harm co-exist, the attachment can grow stronger—not weaker. He betrayed her, yes, but also showed up as “devoted partner” and “devoted dad.”

He made her feel crazy for questioning him, and kind for forgiving him. This inconsistency creates a trauma bond—an emotional leash that feels like love but functions like control.

3. Complex PTSD and Covert Abuse (Herman, 1992)

She wasn’t hit. She was screamed at. She was gaslit. Consistently. Small lies. Withheld truths. Constant emotional ambiguity. Eventually, the body doesn’t know what’s real. And the mind begins to ask: Did I imagine it all?

4. Moral Injury

When we discover we were part of someone else’s lie—even unknowingly—it can fracture our own sense of ethics.

She thought they were being honest. She believed they were showing up for their child.

So when she found out she’d been part of a deception—even while filing for divorce—she felt complicit.

That’s moral injury: when your core values are used against you.

So, was she the other woman?

No.

She was the woman who chose clarity. Who filed for divorce when things felt wrong. Who tried, desperately, to keep something functional for the sake of their child and herself.

She was not the woman he ran to. She was the woman he lingered near—because she was safe. Because she didn’t call him out. Because she still hoped he could be decent.

That’s the hardest part of betrayal trauma—it’s not the lie itself. It’s the intimacy that co-existed with the lie.

And what about the other woman?

That’s the thing—she might not be the other woman either.

She was also fed a lie. She was told the wife was distant, unkind, controlling, unstable, already gone. She didn’t know he was still coming home every evening, still planning and insisting on family holidays, still showing up for a child in ways that made him look like a committed father and (ex)husband.

She was made to believe she was the chosen one. When in fact, she was part of the same illusion.

This is what emotional manipulation does—it weaves a web where everyone feels complicit, confused, and somehow guilty for believing what they were told.

So no—she wasn’t the other woman. She was just another woman who believed a man who made deception look like devotion.

If you’re in this place, here’s what you need to hear:

You are not foolish for believing him.
You are not dramatic for feeling confused.
You are not complicit in his story.

You are someone who tried to love, co-parent, and make peace—with a person who made you feel like the villain in your own life.

Start where it hurts. That’s where the healing lives.

References

Freyd, J. J. (1996). Betrayal Trauma: The Logic of Forgetting Childhood Abuse. Harvard University Press.
Dutton, D. G., & Painter, S. L. (1993). Emotional Attachments in Abusive Relationships. Violence and Victims.
Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery.
Litz, B. T. et al. (2009). Moral Injury and Moral Repair in War Veterans. Clinical Psychology Review.