Consuming Jealousy: Is My Wife Faithful to Me? Or Am I Losing Her…
My name is Andrew, and I’m reaching out to those who might have gone through something similar. I’m not seeking pity or judgment—I just need to express myself because I can’t remain silent anymore. I can’t handle this on my own.
My wife’s name is Emily. We’ve been together for nearly sixteen years, married for fifteen. We have two kids—a son and a daughter. We built our house in the suburbs of London, work hard, raise our children, and occasionally go on beach holidays—just like everyone else. From the outside, we seem like a happy family. But I can’t sleep at night. Jealousy is suffocating me.
I still love Emily as much as I did on our wedding day, perhaps even more. Now, I truly know her—through life’s ups and downs. I’ve seen her tired, unwell, disheveled, and upset—and I still think she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. Sometimes, when she leaves for work, I secretly watch her get ready—how she chooses her earrings, how she smooths her skirt. I’m thrilled to be her husband. I still bring her coffee in the morning and leave notes on the bathroom mirror.
But this love is consuming me from within. I’m terrified. Afraid of losing her. Afraid that one day she’ll come home and it won’t be to me. Scared that another man will make her laugh, as she used to with me.
My fears didn’t just appear out of nowhere. They’re fueled by stories I hear at work every day. Men chuckling in the break room, sharing tales of trips with ‘the girls’ on business trips. How their wives have no clue. How easy it is to hide everything. One man had the audacity to say to my face: “Do you really believe your wife is all that faithful? They’re all the same nowadays…”
After those conversations, I began noticing every little detail. Emily used to lounge in her pajamas for hours, and now she applies a bit of makeup even for a trip to the shops. She used to be home by six, but now she calls to say she’s staying late because of a “new project.” She used to share every detail of her day—now she just says, “Everything’s fine.” She always loved tidiness, but now there are a few dresses in her wardrobe that are definitely not for work. New perfume. A new glow on her cheeks. Am I imagining this?
I find myself wanting to check her phone. Install GPS on her car. Call her office to see if she’s actually there. Or turn up at her work unannounced. I’d stand at the entrance, watching who she leaves with for lunch. Is it the same man each time? Is he a bit too charming? But then I hesitate—what if she sees me? What if I’m wrong? What if this is all in my head? How would I explain my actions?
These thoughts are eating me alive. Every evening, I wait anxiously, listening for every sound at the door. Every late arrival feels like a blow to my heart. I can’t ask her directly—I fear hearing the truth. And if she says “no,” would I believe her?
I don’t recognize myself anymore. I’ve always been a confident man. I’ve never spied or made scenes. But now, I’m torn between love and paranoia. I don’t want to ruin our marriage with my suspicions. But I can’t live as if I’m oblivious to the changes.
I know jealousy is an illness. But what if it becomes chronic? I genuinely don’t want to lose her. I want to be with her, wake up beside her, grow old with her. I want to trust. But I don’t know how.
If you’re reading this—someone who has felt like the ground is slipping from beneath them—tell me: what should I do? Should I talk to her honestly, risking the harshest truth? Or should I stay silent and just be there, hoping this storm will pass?
I can’t cope anymore. I’m drowning in my jealousy. And I don’t know how to get out.
