AITA for refusing to be friendly with my ex after he admitted a 20-year crush and affair with our mutual friend?
After nearly two decades together, my husband confessed he’d been emotionally involved with our mutual friend for months—and had secretly carried feelings for her since high school. Now he wants us to “stay friendly” for the kids, but all I feel is betrayal.
We met as teenagers and have spent most of our lives side by side—from high school sweethearts, to college partners, to moving in together, marrying, and raising three young kids. The only early crack I ever noticed was a moment years ago when he seemed distant; I even offered him an out if he didn’t love me anymore, but he insisted he did and worked hard to reassure me. Over the years, I became close with a woman from his friend group—someone I believed was simply part of our shared circle. But months ago, after days of dodging a “talk,” he admitted he’d been having an emotional affair with her for six months and had slept with her shortly before his behavior changed.
I spent almost 20 years believing in our marriage, only to find out he’d been carrying a crush on my friend the entire time—and acting on it behind my back.
After his confession, more truth kept unraveling. He admitted their connection started years ago—right around the time I feared he’d stopped loving me. They kept their feelings hidden from everyone, including our friends and his family. Meanwhile, I welcomed her into my life, believing our friendship was genuine. She even stood at our wedding pretending nothing was happening behind my back.
"He delayed telling me for days... and only confessed when he couldn’t hide being ‘off’ anymore."
Both of them apologized, but their excuses were hollow—claiming they “stayed apart for my sake” and pushing for us to stay friendly. Meanwhile, they’re still hiding that they’re together, as if secrecy will somehow make this easier for me. My husband insists that not being friendly will hurt the kids, but after nearly 20 years of lies, I can barely stand to be in the same room as him.
"He asked me to think of the kids. It makes me want to lose my mind with him."
I’ve told him I’ll be civil for our children, but that's the limit. I can’t pretend to be friendly with the woman who betrayed me or the man who wasted almost two decades of my life. I’m in therapy and trying to hold everything together, but the humiliation is crushing. I keep wondering what signs I missed, what I could have done differently, and whether drawing this boundary makes me selfish as a parent.
🏠 The Aftermath
The marriage is ending, and I’ve made it clear that civility—not friendship—is all I can offer. He wants a friendly co-parenting dynamic, while I’m focused on minimizing conflict and protecting my emotional stability for the kids’ sake.
They’re still hiding their relationship from most people, and he seems to think this gives him moral points. Meanwhile, I’ve distanced myself entirely, keeping interactions brief and logistical.
The fallout is heavy: trust shattered, a family restructuring, and the kids caught in the middle of a story they didn’t ask for. I’m doing my best to show up for them without pretending the betrayal didn’t happen.
"After almost 20 years together, he expects friendliness like it costs me nothing."
Every interaction with him is a reminder of the years I can’t get back. I’m focused on giving the kids stability, even if it means keeping strict emotional boundaries with their father and the woman who helped break our marriage.
💭 Emotional Reflection
This isn’t just a breakup—it’s the collapse of a life built since adolescence. It’s a betrayal wrapped in years of secrecy, mixed friendships, and misplaced trust. My boundary isn’t about revenge; it’s about self-preservation.
Could I force a friendly relationship for the kids? Maybe. But pretending nothing happened would teach them a worse lesson—that their mother’s pain doesn’t matter. I can be civil without erasing nearly two decades of emotional manipulation.
People may argue that co-parenting requires warmth, but in some cases, stability comes from honesty, boundaries, and choosing not to pretend the impossible.
Here’s how the community might see it:
“Being civil is enough. No one owes friendship to the people who betrayed them.”
“Your kids benefit more from a stable parent than from a fake-friendly one pretending everything is fine.”
“He doesn’t get to demand emotional labor after wasting 20 years of your life.”
Most reactions emphasize that boundaries after betrayal aren’t harmful—they’re healthy. Co-parenting doesn’t require friendship, especially when trust was never real to begin with.
🌱 Final Thoughts
You can protect your children while also protecting yourself. Civil boundaries are not cruelty—they’re clarity after years of deception.
Healing won’t be instant, but refusing false friendliness doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you honest about your limits and your pain.
What do you think?
Would you have stayed friendly, or kept your distance to heal? Share your thoughts below 👇
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