I confronted her about it. She said these were just fantasies, that the cheating was just texting, that it wasn't real, that I had violated the trust by reading her diary.
I agreed we had both messed up, said I'd give her a second chance, that I understand that she might be having second thoughts, and that we all get swept away by our thoughts sometimes. In a way, I was pleased she was writing them down and casting them away. A lot of the entries were from long-distance time. This was start of January.
Enter start of February. She moves back to her place. My mother came to stay with me; could have been awkward. Five days after moving out, about a month since the diary incident, a Friday, we go on a long walk. She discusses long-term futures with me, sees us going the distance: how would I feel about raising children in this place, who would she invite to the wedding?
That night, she has a girls' night with her housemates, gets drunk. No texts to me that night, not even to say goodnight. I wake up several times in the night, worried. I'd seen this movie before.
I check Wyatt's Instagram; she had liked his last photo that night.
I went over there first thing. We spoke. She said she told her housemates everything about the diary, and just liked the photo, not texted him or anything. We work it out, have intercourse, talk for three more hours, work through things, discuss kids and other long-term futures again, moving in together again, etc.
She goes to the bathroom. I check her phone.
She had texted her sister: "Should I be with Sam? He would literally love me even if I killed someone. Or should I go be with other guys?"
And one text from her to Max. It was a response to a question. There was no preceding conversation—it had been deleted. But she had passed out before deleting this last text. She had written it in her notes, too, before sending it via Instagram DM.
How could she not even text me goodnight, but fall asleep talking to other guys?