I used to think emotional affairs were something people invented to make normal friendships sound dramatic until I watched my husband have one. There was no sex that I know of. No hotel room, no kissing, no dating app. Just a woman from work who slowly became the first person he wanted to talk to about everything.

At first it was harmless. They shared memes, complained about their boss, talked about projects. Then one night I noticed he was smiling at his phone in bed and I asked who it was. He said her name so casually that I almost felt stupid for caring.

Months later I found out she knew about our arguments, my anxiety, our financial stress, even private details about my relationship with his mother. He had told her things I thought belonged inside our marriage. When I confronted him, he said they were friends and that sometimes it was easier to talk to someone “outside the situation.” That sentence broke something in me.

I could have understood him venting to a brother or a therapist. What I couldn’t understand was giving another woman a front-row seat to our marriage while I was standing right there trying to figure out why he felt distant. He offered to stop talking to her and eventually did, but I still check his face when his phone lights up.

I hate that I became that person. I hate that I notice new female coworkers now. I hate that I wonder whether he deleted anything. And I hate even more that technically he can say he never cheated. Maybe he didn’t, depending on your definition.

But if your spouse is emotionally investing somewhere else, sharing private pieces of your life, waiting for another person’s messages and protecting that connection from your discomfort, I’m not sure the absence of sex makes the wound much smaller.