Confession:
I’ve never told anyone this. Not my friends, not even my therapist. I guess I just needed a place to spill it, anonymously.

I was with my boyfriend, James, for almost three years. We were solid — movie nights, travel plans, even looking at apartments. Everyone said we were “perfect together.”

But here’s what no one knew: I had this electric tension with his older brother, Matt. It started small — looks across the table, harmless flirting, laughs that lasted a little too long. He was charming in that dangerous way James never was.

It happened one night after a family barbecue. James passed out early after too many beers, and I stayed up talking with Matt. One thing led to another. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t even romantic. It was messy, fast, and filled with guilt before it even ended.

The worst part? We both pretended like it never happened. I saw him the next morning, and we couldn’t even make eye contact. And James — poor James — was making pancakes for everyone, smiling like nothing had happened.

That was a year ago. I never told James. I never spoke to Matt about it again. And every time I see a family photo on social media, I feel like I’m rotting inside.

I don’t know if I deserve to move on. I don’t know if I ever will.

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Submitted anonymously to Confession Jar.