I was hiding in a rental car outside a stranger’s house, heart pounding — stalking my boyfriend. Not my proudest moment.

Desperate to see if my intuitive suspicions were true, I waited. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time I’d questioned his cheating. This time, I had to know for sure. For years, he’d convinced me I was crazy — that my gut instincts were paranoia, that I was jealous and unstable, imagining things that weren’t real. For years, I insecurely believed him.

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