Have you ever cheated and kept it a secret? Does the guilt ever go away?

I Cheated, and No One Knows—Not Even Her Throwaway because I can never admit this to anyone. I never saw myself as the kind of guy who would cheat. I had a stable marriage, a wife who loved me, and a life that looked good from the outside. But somehow, it happened. And the strangest part? No one—not my wife, not her husband, not even my closest friends—ever found out. It started unexpectedly. Sneha and I had been college friends. Just that. She got married young, moved away, and we lost touch. I married Nisha, settled into life, and never thought about her again. Then, years later, we ran into each other at a work event in Delhi. "Arjun?!" she said, eyes widening in surprise. We caught up over coffee, laughing about how much had changed. She was back in Mumbai, her husband constantly traveling. I told her about my job, my marriage, the usual. Before we left, she said, "Let’s not lose touch this time," and we exchanged numbers. The texts started casually—memes, work rants, random check-ins. But slowly, things shifted. Late-night conversations turned deeper. She once texted, "Ever feel like you're just existing, not living?" I stared at the screen for a long time before replying: "Every single day." That was the beginning. At first, we met for coffee. Then dinner. Then, one evening, she invited me over—“Just dinner,” she had said. It was raining, I remember. The wine flowed, and the conversation turned quiet. A charged silence. She looked at me, and I knew what was about to happen. I should have left. But I didn’t. What followed wasn’t some grand love story. It was quiet, careful, and temporary. No unnecessary texts, no risky calls. We never spoke about the future, never made promises we couldn’t keep. We existed in stolen moments, knowing it couldn’t last. And then, one night, reality hit me. At dinner, Nisha casually mentioned a colleague’s affair that had ruined his marriage. “I don’t get how people do this,” she said, shaking her head. “How do you live with that kind of guilt?” I forced a chuckle. “Some people are just wired differently, I guess.” That night, I texted Sneha. “We need to stop.” She took a while to reply. When she did, it was just one word: "I know." We never spoke again. Life moved on. My marriage remained intact. To this day, Nisha doesn’t know. Neither does her husband. It’s as if it never happened. But sometimes, when my phone buzzes late at night, I still feel that split-second rush—just before I remind myself that it’s never her. And it never will be.