The day I discovered my husband's affair, I became him.
Using his body, I transferred forty million in Bitcoin to myself. Using his body, I exposed his secret identity in front of everyone. Then I discovered that I'd already acted out this revenge three times.
We were forced to share 99 dreams. In each other's bodies, we experienced each other's pain: she had to deal with her period, he had a heart attack; she faced workplace harassment, he experienced postpartum depression. Every shared dream was a chance to “see” each other.
On the 99th time, we learned the truth: the curse wasn't aimed at unfaithful partners, but at “accomplices.” The couples before us had all failed: sacrifice, dying together, or becoming hollow observers.
On the 100th time, we chose to create a new rule. Not winning, not losing, but becoming “background”: a wave of warmth as our daughter ironed a shirt, a voice while eating soup dumplings saying, “Stop counting.”
This isn't a fairy-tale ending, but an everyday kind of eternity: keep going, keep practicing, count the times, then let go.
