Consuming Jealousy: Is My Wife Faithful, or Am I Losing Her…
My name is Andrew, and I’m reaching out to those who might have experienced something similar. I’m not seeking sympathy or judgment—I just need to express myself. I can’t keep this to myself any longer, nor can I handle it alone.
My wife’s name is Rebecca. We have been together for almost sixteen years and married for fifteen. We have two children—a son and a daughter. We’ve built our home in the countryside outside London, work hard, raise our kids, and occasionally take trips to the seaside—just like any other family. On the surface, we seem happy. But I struggle to sleep at night because I’m suffocating from jealousy.
I still love Rebecca as much as I did on our wedding day, if not more. I know her well now—in everyday life and during challenging times. I’ve seen her tired, unwell, stressed, upset—and I still consider her the most beautiful woman in the world. Sometimes, as she leaves for work, I admire how she prepares—choosing her earrings and smoothing her skirt. It thrills me to be her husband. I still bring her tea in the morning and leave notes on the bathroom mirror.
Yet this love is eating me alive. I fear losing her. I’m terrified that one day she’ll come home and it won’t be to me. I’m scared someone else will make her laugh like I once did.
My fears aren’t baseless. They’re fueled by stories I hear at work. Men laughing in the break room about trips with “girls” on business trips, and how their wives are clueless about it all, hiding things effortlessly. One even had the nerve to say to my face, “Do you really believe your wife is faithful? Nowadays, none are.”
After such conversations, I began to notice everything. Rebecca used to lounge in her pajamas for hours, but now she wears light makeup even for a trip to the shops. She used to be home by 6, but now she calls to say she’s delayed by a “new project.” She used to share every detail of her day but now simply says, “Everything’s fine.” She always liked order, but suddenly there are dresses in her wardrobe that aren’t work-appropriate. New perfume. A new flush on her cheeks. Am I imagining it?
I’ve caught myself wanting to check her phone. To install GPS on her car. To call her office to see if she’s really there. Or just to show up at her work unannounced, pretending it’s a coincidence. I’d stand outside to see who she goes to lunch with. Is it the same guy? Is he too attentive? But then I freeze—what if she sees me? What if I’m wrong? What if it’s all in my head? How would I explain my behavior?
These thoughts are eating me alive. Every evening, I listen for her footsteps at the door, each delay feeling like a punch to the heart. I can’t bring myself to ask her directly—I fear I’ll hear the truth. And if she says “no,” will I believe her?
I don’t recognize myself. I used to be a confident man. I never spied or created drama. Now I’m torn between love and paranoia. I don’t want to destroy our marriage with my suspicions. But I can’t pretend any longer that nothing is changing.
I know jealousy is a sickness, but what do I do when it becomes chronic? I genuinely don’t want to lose her. I want to be with her, wake up next to her, grow alongside her, age together. I want to trust her. But I don’t know how.
If you’re reading this and you once felt like the ground was slipping from beneath you, tell me: What should I do? Should I talk to her honestly, risking the worst? Or should I stay quiet and simply be there, hoping this storm will pass?
I’m struggling to cope. I’m drowning in my jealousy. And I don’t know how to get out.
