I met the woman my boyfriend cheated on me with

She helped me dodge a bullet

I was heading to the airport in a cab, to meet a woman I had never met before, anticipating a conversation that would shatter my heart. All I knew about her was that she was from Bengaluru and had flown to Mumbai for a cousin’s engagement. And that she was in a relationship with the same man who was asking to meet my parents. In an hour of conversation over texts and a call, she had revealed that my boyfriend of over two years had cheated on me, and even shared some evidence. Within half an hour of the call, I was on my way to meet her. I did not cry, nor was I angry. I felt a strange sense of stillness even when I should have been a wreck. I only knew I had to meet her and get to know the whole story.

I met Kabir* on a dating app at the end of 2020, and we clicked instantly. Our dates were a mix of laughter and the words any woman would want to hear, doused in red wine sangrias. He grew up in Mumbai, but had moved to the US for work. When we met, he was in the city visiting his family. Initially, I was a little sceptical about getting attached to someone who lived far away, but I decided to go with the flow. During the six weeks he was here, we spent a lot of time together. After he returned to New Jersey, we continued talking every day, and a few months later, we found ourselves in a long-distance relationship.

We’d talk for hours every night, sharing every little detail of our day. He knew of all the people in my life, and I knew the ones in his. We’d sacrifice our sleep to be able to spend time together across time zones. Sometimes, I’d fall asleep on the call, and he’d just sit there watching me. Diwali, birthdays, New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s Day, we’d celebrate them all together, virtually. He’d send me flowers and dresses; I’d send him shirts and his favourite blueberry cheesecake. We’d not fight often, but when we did, we’d both put in the effort to make things work.

There was a sense of simplicity about him. Unpretentious hair, the most genuine smile, and a wardrobe full of neutrals. His favourite pastime? Research. Office chairs, water bottles, new gadgets, and a bunch of other very geeky things—he’d want to read up about everything. I found it very endearing. It felt easy to trust this sweet man who treated me with care and was interested in all the typical ‘good guy’ things.

It was going well, until he started talking about the idea of us getting married.

In November 2022, he wanted me to formally meet his mother (I had briefly met her two years ago, when I went to the airport to see Kabir off, and his family was there too). He set up a video call so we could get to know each other, and then dropped off to let the conversation flow naturally. It was only during this meeting that I realised that all his stories about his family being open-minded were lies, or at least a delusion.

After the call, Kabir’s mother told him I was sweet but “too modern”. She expected me to make full-blown thalis (if you’re wondering what mothers-in-law expect, this article will help) for her raja beta every day and go out to make money. We spoke about my family, she questioned if we were close enough and wondered if my chacha-chachis knew my whereabouts on any given day. The red flags were glaring at me. When I told him about this, he didn’t stand up for me. He had promised me that if I faced any issues with his family, he’d support me. I had believed him, but now I felt betrayed. I wanted to call it off, but he asked for more time to make things better. He said he’d handle it, and once again, I believed him.

Our relationship didn’t feel the same after that, and I could sense a definite shift in his behaviour towards me. For example, often after a late-night call when he’d say he was going to sleep, his WhatsApp status would show that he was still online. When I’d ask him about it, he’d say he was talking to his mom. The man who’d speak with his mom once a week at best was suddenly texting her everyday. I’d wonder if he was lying, but he’d gaslight me out of this train of thought by insisting I was overthinking.

All these pieces finally fit together as I made my way to the airport. The sheer lies, the manipulation, the betrayal.

In March 2023, he came to Mumbai for a few weeks to meet his family, but most importantly, to meet me, or at least that’s what I believed. He promised our relationship would be stronger if we spent more time together. I felt conflicted—I kept wondering if I should walk away or stay. Would I be walking away from a relationship we’d built with so much care and patience over two years because of a temporary obstacle, or would I be dodging a bullet? Without any real facts, I wasn’t able to decide. Until the ‘other’ woman found me.

It started with a message on Instagram. I had just made my profile public on a whim, something he had always discouraged because he’d argue it wasn’t safe. A few minutes later, I received a DM from a girl who claimed to know something about my boyfriend. I dismissed it at first as a prank. But she mentioned his name, then came the screenshots of sexts and video calls.

It was real. All of it. She was real.

The sisterhood of being cheated on

Sneha* was a petite woman, and the floral midi skirt she wore looked good on her dusky skin. We hugged as we found each other and sat at The Beer Cafe at Mumbai airport. She admitted she’d been afraid to meet me, worried I would get angry or mock her. But in the end, she chose honesty over fear.

She told me they met on a matrimonial app back in February 2023 (yes, I know, I was blown away too), where they matched and started talking. After many video calls and lots of sexual flirting, it had come down to extremely graphic sexts, which I unfortunately was subjected to viewing.

A month after meeting him, Sneha got suspicious because even though she flew to Mumbai while he was in the city, he didn’t meet her. She told me how he kept dodging her until it was time for her to return to Bengaluru. We compared notes, trying to figure out his timelines based on the lies he told both of us. We gossiped, bitched about him, and honestly, in that moment, it was fun. I was still trying to assess my feelings, like when you fall and laugh first, only to realise later how many places it hurts.

The confrontation

Unable to hold it in, that same night, at 4 am, I went to Kabir’s house and texted him to step outside. I confronted him, but not in the way you see in films. There was no yelling, no throwing a glass of water in his face (though that was my original plan), no brandishing screenshots. In that moment, I chose to do it in a way that felt right for me.

I told him I knew. He denied it until I mentioned some specific details he’d texted her. Then came the excuses. He told me his mother forced him to join a matrimonial app and he wasn’t going to marry her, he just got carried away with the conversation—it was all just “timepass”.

This lack of accountability would have made me angry, but I didn’t want to scream, insult, or curse him. I just told him, calmly, what he had done—how he had destroyed something that could have been meaningful. How he had lost me.

He cried. He begged. He tried every trick in the manipulator’s handbook, including blaming me for breaking up a two-year long relationship. For a fleeting moment, I even fell for it and considered forgiving him and not calling it off. But just as quickly, I asked myself if he was trustworthy. Would he not get bored one day and start talking to another woman? He lied so efficiently for months. Could he even be honest, and what else did he lie about? And most importantly, did I want to marry a man who doesn’t stand up for me? Would I ever accept the mother who asked him to talk to other women even though he was dating me, as my mother-in-law? No.

I was so incredibly disappointed, but what I wanted at that moment was not revenge. I just wanted one last whiff of the love I had poured into him, the memories we had shared, the life we almost had. And before I knew it, there they were, my tears. Finally, I cried. And as horrible as it sounds, I wanted to be held by him when I wept, which he did. Why did I still need that to feel okay? It was the hardest part, being hurt by the same person you seek comfort from. I sat there on the stairs, crying as we held each other one final time, and even kissed him—all the things you don’t expect someone who’s just been cheated on to do.

But it wasn’t for him. It was for me. It was my closure. My goodbye. When I was done, I left.

Moving on

I had waited for two years for him to visit Mumbai so we could plan a fun date together, like a weekend getaway, a night of dancing to Bollywood music, and so much more. Years’ worth of dates, that I dreamt of fitting into a few weeks. But before I could do any of these with him, I discovered that the man was cheating on me. In retrospect, I am glad I didn’t build those memories with him in-person. In fact, after my breakup, with my friends’ support, I decided to make every last one of these dates happen, except this time it was with my girls. We went dancing, we went to Goa, and I had a great time.

Moving on wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I realised I had been slowly letting go for months, and this was simply the final straw.

Once the dust settled, Sneha and I stayed in touch for a few months, both of us bonded by the same betrayal. She said he often made her feel objectified, and I started doubting myself, wondering if I was not desirable or cool enough. She was successful, confident, and did aerial yoga, for God’s sake. Was that the reason he had been tempted? That’s the kind of mental spiral cheating throws you into. It messes with your head in ways you never expect.“What are you even saying? You’re hot, you’re kind, and you’re an amazing woman. He didn’t deserve you,” Sneha would tell me, trying to be my hype woman.

For a year, Kabir kept sending flowers with apology notes. I ignored them all. Until one day, I unblocked him on my phone just to say, Stop. After asking me how I had moved on so easily (oh, the audacity?), he eventually did stop. And I healed.

That year in June, I met someone else, the man I would go on to marry, someone who truly makes me happy. In the early days, he was also very patient with me, especially when I got triggered by the trust issues Kabir had left behind. I was petrified before meeting his parents. What if they didn’t like me either? But he’d calm me down, reassuring me that they would love me. And they did. Things turned out great. We got married last year, and today, he says I have become his parents’ laadli. Now, when I look back, I know I dodged a bullet.

Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is leave that seat empty. Wait. Let it be noticed by someone who’s truly worthy of sitting beside you.

*Names changed to maintain anonymity