The Moment the Mother Became a Woman Again
After bathing and soothing two children to sleep, the clock read two a.m. I was on my knees gathering plastic blocks when my husband’s phone vibrated on the coffee table. The screen lit up: ‘I still can’t forget today’—sent by a contact labeled ‘Ji-soo, work buddy’.
“Let’s turn in early,” he murmured, sounding sorry, then turned away. The back of his neck looked like a stranger’s. That night, the end of housekeeping began.
A Sleepless Night, a Lingering Scent
Which number was I?
At three a.m. he pretended to sleep. I slid my hand into his trouser pocket and drew out a lipstick still warm with perfume: deep burgundy. No woman I knew wore that shade.
In the bathroom mirror I pressed the bullet to my lips. Whose throat did these lips graze?
From the window the twenty-fifth-floor lights of the apartment towers blinked. Each glow—was it a family’s hearth or a clandestine fire?
Ji-soo, or Perhaps Suzy
Posted on the anonymous board of the mom-café ‘Momsholic’
“My husband slept with our friend while we were raising two kids.”
Three hundred replies. Forgive him. Leave him. Gather evidence.
No one said what she really wanted to hear: You’ve fantasised too, haven’t you?
Reality, or Its Reflection
Kim Min-jung, 38, housewife, Songpa-gu, Seoul. Husband: section chief at a chaebol. Son: 7. Daughter: 5.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” my son asked. We must have raised our voices last night. I said nothing.
Because the truth stung more: I wasn’t angry that he had left me; I was angry that I had left him first.
Why We Are Seduced by Betrayal
Psychologist Esther Perel observes:
“Modern humans seek security yet crave passion.”
Between the family we guard and the desire we bury, the flower of taboo keeps blooming. We discover that the very desire we believed marriage would extinguish flares up the moment the vows are spoken.
The Last Night
Tonight, again, after the children sleep, I will sit on the living-room sofa and touch his phone. I no longer check the messages; instead, I imagine her—who she is, how she laughs.
Have you ever pictured someone like this?
Betrayed after two children. Yet that betrayal returned me to myself—as a woman.
A Foot Paused at the Door
“I’ll be home early today,” he said. I turned my cheek from his kiss. In the vanity drawer waits a red lipstick I’ve hidden for weeks. The evening is still light; for the first time, I take it out.
Do you still love, or do you merely clutch the memory of having once been loved?