Should You Forgive A Cheating Fiance?

My boyfriend didn’t just cheat. He did it with my twin sister. In my apartment. On our anniversary. And the worst part? They planned it. He dated me to destroy me. She gave him every secret I ever trusted her with. Just because she wants to ruin my future and my career. So I walked into a bar, ready to drink myself unconscious. But no one would serve me. Because of him. The hot, sexy stranger in the VIP lounge with cold eyes, a sharp voice, and a presence that made everyone move back without a word. In my delirious state, I confronted him. He didn’t care. Instead, he said: “If you want to forget everything, I’ll give you something worth remembering.” One night became two. Two became three. When I escaped his bed, I promised myself I would never see him again. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. On Monday, I was reported to the CEO’s office—my ex’s final attempt to destroy my job. I walked in trembling. And there he was.

Iris Glover and Stanley Stein shared seven years together—three of dating and four of marriage. Their relationship unraveled when Stanley chose to believe the homewrecker and prosecuted Iris in court himself. The question, "Do you plead guilty?" shattered Iris' heart. She fought fiercely in court, proved her innocence, and exposed the homewrecker's true nature. Upon her acquittal, she told Stanley, "Let's get a divorce." He replied, "Don't you regret it, Iris," believing she was merely throwing a tantrum. When they crossed paths again, Stanley asked, "Have you come to reconcile?" Iris retorted, "Being so delusional is an illness; seek help." Every time she got mad, she always went back to him once she calmed down, but not this time. It wasn't until Iris emerged as a successful lawyer standing opposite him in court that Stanley realized she had changed; she no longer belonged to him. In a moment of desperation, he pleaded, "Iris, I still love you. Please come back to me." Iris, now strong and resolute, replied, "The reason I improved myself is thanks to you, not for you. Mr. Stein, please step aside; don't stand in my way."

My fiancé of eight years moved in with the junior he was mentoring. She was young, pretty, knew how to play helpless, and knew exactly what she was doing. He'd down every toast meant for her—the same nights he let me get talked into drinking until I nearly died. He sat with her through her depression, fetched her water, fed her by hand. And me? I was alone in a hospital bed, burning with a 104-degree fever. He set her up on a pedestal and never noticed I'd been ground into the dirt. The day they discharged me, I didn't scream. I didn't fall apart. I went home, quietly packed a suitcase, and burned every memory that had his name on it. Later I heard the famous CEO of Washington Group showed up at his fiancée's door with millions of dollars in gifts. He found an empty apartment. And he lost his mind.

While setting up the wedding bed, I discovered an unidentified liquid on the sheets. In my new marital home, someone else had already stayed here! My mind went completely blank, and I video-called my fiance. Surprisingly, the call was answered instantly. "The new bed is really soft. I tried it out for you," said Jeremy's assistant, Rachel. She smiled, flirtatious and smug. Perfect. I don't want this man anymore.

My husband, Damien, loved me deeply—so deeply it felt like I was his whole world. Everyone said he was the perfect husband. Yet, he betrayed me. Not once, not twice, but three times. The first time was three years ago. His closest friend, Aaron, died saving him. Damien kept it from me and secretly married Aaron’s girlfriend, Vivian—on paper. I was heartbroken and ready to leave him. That night, he sent her abroad and fell to his knees, begging me. “Estelle, Aaron gave his life for me. I must take care of his widow. That marriage certificate is just a promise of security for Vivian. Once I’ve avenged Aaron, I’ll divorce her. The only woman I love is you.” I forgave him. The second time came the following year. At a press conference, Damien publicly introduced Vivian as the Mafia leader’s wife. He pulled me aside to explain. “Vivian is the only daughter of the Young family—the Mafia. Our two families joined forces for one reason only: to get revenge for Aaron. I’ve already made arrangements with her. Once we’ve dealt with our enemies, I’ll divorce her and marry you right away.” Once again, I believed him. Then came the third time. Someone drugged Damien at a banquet, and he spent the night with Vivian. He hid it from me until just two weeks ago, when I caught him at the hospital, sitting beside her during a prenatal checkup. That was when I finally learned the truth. He lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes, and spoke in a low voice. “Estelle, it was an accident. Once she gives birth, I’ll send her away. My parents will raise the child, and I swear—neither of them will ever appear in your life again.” In the name of love, Damien pushed me to compromise again and again. Yet now I know. There’s no future left for us. It’s time for me to walk away.

When my cheating fiancé dropped to one knee and proposed in front of everyone at our engagement party, he thought I would burst into tears and say yes. What he didn't expect was for me to snatch the microphone right out of his hand. "Sorry, I’m not marrying you." The entire room fell silent. Jason Gordon froze, the smile still lingering on his lips, as though he hadn't yet processed what I'd just said. I looked at him without the slightest ripple of emotion. Three minutes earlier, I had awakened the memories of my past life. In that life, I nodded yes at this very party. Then I watched this man slowly hollow out the company my father left me before tossing me aside like something no longer useful. Still kneeling on the floor, his voice trembled. "Claire... what... what are you talking about?" I met his eyes and smiled. "I already said I'm not marrying you." I handed the microphone back to the emcee, lifted the hem of my gown, and walked out of the ballroom without looking back. Behind me, his panicked voice rang out. "Claire Sharp! Claire, stop!" I didn't turn around.