My cheating wife froze in shock when I calmly said, 'We need to finalize the divorce by Friday...

[Music] Her glass of wine trembled in her hand as my words shattered the illusion of control she thought she had. The carefully rehearsed speech she and Todd had planned dissolved into silence, leaving her defenseless against the storm of evidence I laid out before her. The truth had caught up, and there was no escape.

Her denial, her excuses—all of it crumbled as I took the reins of a narrative she thought she controlled. But before we dive deeper into this story, let me know where you're watching from in the comments below. And if you enjoy stories like this, don't forget to subscribe and hit the notification bell so you won't miss what's coming next.

For ten years, our marriage had been a journey filled with shared dreams and unwavering devotion. Sherry and I had built a life together—one that once brimmed with love, laughter, and a deep sense of partnership. I still remember those early days: the electricity between us, the effortless connection we shared—everything: our passions, our fears, our ambitions.

Whether it was something as mundane as a late-night grocery run or an adventurous road trip, we did it all together. It wasn't just love; it was the kind of bond that felt unbreakable. But over time, something shifted.

Our once vibrant connection began to fray—subtly at first, then with unmistakable clarity. The signs were there, small and almost imperceptible at the beginning: a missed dinner here, an unexplained lateness there. Sherry's enthusiasm for our shared hobbies waned.

The pottery classes she once adored, the Sunday afternoons painting tiny tiles for our Christmas village—those moments of togetherness had faded into distant memories. Her laughter, once so full of life, seemed forced when we were alone. I tried to brush it off as stress or the natural ebb and flow of a long-term relationship, but deep down, a gnawing feeling began to take root: something was wrong.

The changes in Sherry became harder to ignore. She started coming home later and later, always with a convenient excuse—work deadlines, a sudden team meeting, or traffic delays. Her wardrobe, too, underwent a transformation; gone were the comfortable outfits she'd worn for years, replaced by more daring, provocative choices.

I wanted to believe she was simply embracing a new sense of self-confidence, but my instincts told me otherwise. And then there was Todd. I'd heard his name in passing—a colleague from work.

At first, it seemed harmless enough; she spoke of him in the same casual tone she used for everyone else at her job. But as time went on, I noticed how often his name crept into conversations, how her face lit up when she talked about him. It was the kind of light I hadn't seen in a long time.

My heart sank every time I tried to confront her, to bring up my growing concerns gently, but Sherry brushed me off with practiced ease. "You're just being paranoid," she'd say, her tone exasperated yet calm. "Todd is just a friend.

Don't let your insecurities ruin what we have. " Her words stung, not because I believed them, but because they were so calculated, so dismissive. It was as if my feelings didn't matter.

But I knew what I saw, what I felt. Sherry was slipping away from me, piece by piece. The tipping point came one evening when I stumbled upon an innocuous detail in an email she had carelessly left open.

The words weren't incriminating, but the tone was intimate—far beyond what any professional correspondence should be. That was when I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer. I needed answers, and I needed the truth.

Drven by a mix of heartbreak and determination, I found myself sitting in the office of Jake Sloan, a private investigator. It was a last resort, a step I'd never imagined taking. Yet as I recounted my suspicions to him, I felt a strange combination of dread and relief.

If Sherry truly was betraying me, at least I'd finally have proof. But a part of me still clung to hope—desperate to believe that the woman I had loved so deeply for a decade wouldn't shatter the life we had built together. The report from Jake Sloan, the private investigator, painted a vivid and undeniable picture of the relationship between Sherry and Todd.

It was clear that their bond had long transcended the boundaries of mere friendship. The evidence collected through careful observation—photographs and a summary of intercepted messages—left no room for doubt. Their connection was intimate; their actions deliberate, and their intentions unmistakable from the outset.

Their interactions exuded an intimacy that could not be explained away as platonic. Photographs showed them sitting impossibly close during their lunch breaks—hands brushing and fleeting but deliberate gestures. Sherry, once so reserved, was seen laughing with Todd in a way that radiated more than casual camaraderie.

One image in particular stood out: Todd leaning over to tuck a strand of hair behind Sherry's ear. It was a small act, but the tenderness it conveyed was undeniable. These gestures, subtle to the untrained eye, spoke volumes about the nature of their relationship.

In his summary, Sloan detailed the content of their private messages. While Sherry had avoided explicit declarations of love, the tone of their exchanges was deeply personal and revealing. Todd frequently complimented her in ways that went beyond the professional—admiring her intelligence, her smile, her presence.

Sherry, in turn, opened up about feelings of dissatisfaction and loneliness in her marriage. The messages weren't just flirtatious; they were confessional. Todd had become her confidant, someone she trusted with her innermost thoughts—a role that should have been reserved for her husband.

Even more damning were their plans to meet outside of work. Todd had suggested a romantic dinner at a secluded restaurant followed by an evening of dancing. Sherry's initial hesitation was clear in the messages, but Todd's.

. . Persistence was equally evident.

He assured her that their time together wasn't a betrayal but a necessary step toward her self-discovery. His words were carefully crafted, designed to soothe her guilt while pulling her deeper into his influence. Todd's manipulation became increasingly apparent in the way he framed their relationship as a solution rather than a problem.

He convinced Sherry that their bond could reignite her passion and paradoxically improve her marriage. "Sometimes stepping away is the only way to truly see what you have," he wrote in one message. He also planted the idea that the narrator, her husband, might ultimately accept the affair if it made her happier.

Todd's rhetoric was manipulative but effective, appealing to Sherry's insecurities while masking his selfish motives. The crescendo of their plans came when Todd proposed a getaway, with Todd's wife conveniently out of town. He suggested a night at a luxury hotel.

The messages revealed their excitement but also their careful plotting. Sherry debated lying about a girl's weekend, yet Todd's reassurance emboldened her. "You deserve this," he insisted.

His ability to twist the narrative into one where Sherry felt justified in her actions was a hallmark of his control. In pulling these threads together, the investigator's report highlighted not only the depth of Sherry and Todd's emotional entanglement but also the calculated way Todd had drawn her in. His promises, while appealing, were empty manipulations designed to serve his desires.

For Sherry, the allure of Todd's attention had become a dangerous escape from her life, but the damage it inflicted on her marriage was profound. Each revelation brought the narrator closer to the climax, where the confrontation with Sherry would shatter any illusion she had left about their actions. The mounting evidence, the intimate gestures, and Todd's psychological maneuvering were pieces of a devastating puzzle—one that would change everything.

The private investigator's report was thorough, yet reading it was a harrowing experience. Each piece of evidence felt like a fresh wound, cutting deeper into the trust I once had in Sherry. The documentation was meticulous—photographs of subtle but damning gestures, summaries of clandestine conversations, and notes on their upcoming plans.

Each detail confirmed what I had feared: Sherry's emotional infidelity had crossed the line from which there was no return. One section of the report detailed their interactions at work. The photographs captured moments that might seem innocuous to an outsider: Sherry leaning into Todd during a lunch break, their knees brushing under a small café table, or a quick embrace in the parking lot.

But these weren't the actions of two colleagues; they radiated a level of intimacy that was impossible to ignore. A particularly telling image showed Todd brushing stray hair from Sherry's face, his expression soft and possessive. Sherry's reaction was equally telling; she tilted her head slightly, smiling in a way I hadn't seen in years.

The private investigator had also pieced together excerpts from Sherry and Todd's text messages. They weren't graphic but were saturated with emotional intimacy. Todd flattered her endlessly, praising her brilliance, beauty, and wit.

In one message, he wrote, "You make my days brighter, Sherry. I can't imagine getting through the week without you. " Sherry responded with equal fervor, "You understand me in ways no one else does.

" Their conversations often turned to me, though Sherry, to her credit, never demeaned me outright. Todd, however, wasn't as restrained; he referred to me as rigid and unimaginative, suddenly implying that I was incapable of giving Sherry the life she deserved. What stung most was her silence in response to these jabs—a tacit agreement that I had failed her.

The most damning part of the report was the section detailing their future plans. Todd had suggested taking advantage of his wife's absence to spend a night together at a luxury hotel. Their messages revealed meticulous planning.

Sherry hesitated initially, brainstorming excuses to justify her absence. "Maybe I could say it's a girl's weekend," she suggested in one message. Todd dismissed this idea, arguing that the lie was too risky.

Instead, he urged her to simply tell me the truth. "He'll come around," Todd insisted. "If he loves you, he'll want you to be happy, even if it's with someone else.

" Reading these words ignited a fury I hadn't known I was capable of. Todd's arrogance was astounding, but what hurt most was Sherry's willingness to entertain the idea. She seemed to genuinely believe that I would acquiesce—that I would endure her betrayal in silence to keep her in my life.

The sheer audacity of their scheme to treat this as a so-called intervention aimed at normalizing their affair was beyond comprehension. The conflicting emotions were overwhelming. On one hand, I felt a fleeting sense of relief knowing that Sherry and Todd hadn't yet crossed the final boundary of physical intimacy, but that relief was quickly overshadowed by the crushing weight of betrayal.

Emotional infidelity, in many ways, felt even more devastating. Sherry had given parts of herself—her thoughts, her dreams, her vulnerability—to another man. The realization hollowed me out, leaving behind a raw, seething anger.

I isolated between heartbreak and rage. Memories of our early years together flashed before me: the long walks, the shared hobbies, the nights spent laughing until our sides ached. How had we gone from that to this?

I wanted to scream, to lash out, to confront Sherry immediately, but I knew that would only play into their hands. If I wanted to regain control, I needed to approach this strategically. Over the weekend, I immersed myself in planning the confrontation.

I replayed every possible scenario in my head, anticipating Sherry's reactions and crafting my responses. The goal wasn't just to expose her deceit but to ensure she couldn't manipulate the narrative in her favor. She and Todd had rehearsed their intervention, but they hadn't accounted for the depth of my resolve.

To begin with, I decided to stage the confrontation. Confrontation in a controlled environment—our home—it was a space where I felt grounded, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing inside me. I set the scene meticulously: a bottle of her favorite wine, chilled and ready; two glasses arranged neatly on the table.

The setup was deliberate—a juxtaposition of calm against the storm of emotions I planned to unleash next. I prepared the evidence. I printed copies of the investigator's report, highlighting key sections that left no room for misinterpretation.

I rehearsed my delivery, ensuring that my tone would remain calm but firm. There would be no yelling, no dramatic outbursts. I wanted Sherry to feel the weight of her actions through my composure, to see that I wasn't the naive, passive husband she had underestimated.

Finally, I decided to preempt her planned speech. Sherry expected to lead the conversation, to frame her betrayal as a misguided attempt to fix our marriage. But I had no intention of letting her dictate the terms.

My opening line would be simple but devastating: "I want a divorce. " It would strip away her control from the outset, forcing her to grapple with the consequences of her actions. By Monday morning, my plan was complete, but the waiting was excruciating.

Every moment felt heavy with anticipation, the air thick with the weight of what was to come. When Sherry called during lunch to confirm I'd be home that evening, her voice was sweet, almost carefree. “There's something important I need to talk to you about,” she said.

I couldn't help but marvel at her confidence, her belief that she could orchestrate this conversation on her terms. “That's perfect,” I replied evenly. “I have something important to discuss with you too.

” The silence on the other end of the line was palpable. I could almost hear her calculating, trying to discern the meaning behind my words. Finally, she replied, “All right then, I'll see you tonight.

” As I hung up, a strange sense of calm washed over me. The pieces were in place; the stage was set. Whatever happened that evening, it would be on my terms.

I had allowed Sherry and Todd to write the first chapters of this story, but now it was my turn to take control of the narrative. The kitchen was bathed in a soft, warm light—the kind that usually set the tone for a quiet, peaceful evening. A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc sat on the table, beads of condensation slowly trickling down its surface next to two perfectly polished glasses.

Everything about the scene suggested tranquility—an illusion carefully crafted by the narrator to contrast with the emotional tempest about to unfold. The faint hum of the refrigerator filled the silence as I waited. Each passing second heightened the tension that coiled in my chest like a spring.

I could hear the familiar sound of Sherry's car pulling into the driveway, followed by the low creak of the garage door. Moments later, her heels clicked rhythmically against the tiled floor, drawing closer. The door opened, and she stepped in, her keys jingling as she tossed them onto the counter.

“Hi, honey,” she said, her tone light, almost cheerful, though there was an underlying hesitance. “Welcome home,” I replied, my voice calm and measured. I gestured toward the table.

“I thought we could talk. ” Sherry hesitated, her smile faltering slightly as her eyes darted to the wine. She hadn't expected this—me waiting, prepared and composed.

There was a flicker of uncertainty in her expression, but she quickly masked it, slipping into the role she had rehearsed. “Of course,” she said, moving to sit across from me. The first few moments were filled with an uneasy silence as I poured the wine, handing her a glass.

She took a sip, her fingers gripping the stem tightly. “I actually wanted to talk to you, too,” she began, her tone overly casual. “There’s something I think we need to address.

” “Go ahead,” I said, leaning back slightly. My demeanor was inviting yet unnervingly controlled, throwing her off balance. Sherry took a deep breath, her eyes momentarily avoiding mine.

“I've been thinking a lot about us lately,” she started, her voice steady but laced with a nervous undertone. “About our marriage and ways we might be able to strengthen it. ” The narrator's lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

“Strengthen it? ” I echoed. “Interesting choice of words.

Please continue. ” She hesitated again, her practiced lines slipping away as my calmness began to unnerve her. “Well, I've been feeling like maybe we've lost some of the spark,” she ventured, her voice faltering.

“And I think there might be ways to rekindle that, like a romantic dinner and an overnight stay at the Gaylord Texas Hotel. ” I asked, my tone cutting but still composed, “What are you talking about? ” The color drained from her face, and her hand froze mid-motion.

“Well, what are you talking about? ” she stammered, her voice breaking. I leaned forward, meeting her eyes with a piercing gaze.

“Don't insult my intelligence, Sherry,” I said, my voice low but firm. “I know everything about you, about Todd, about the plans you've been making. ” Her glass trembled in her hand, and she hastily set it down before it tipped over.

“That's not true,” she said quickly, her voice rising. “You're imagining things. ” “Enough,” I interrupted sharply.

The single word sliced through her denial like a blade. I reached into the folder beside me and slid a series of photographs across the table. Sherry's eyes widened as she saw the damning evidence: her hand entwined with Todd's, the two of them leaning close, his lips brushing her cheek in a moment captured with unflinching clarity.

Her breath hitched, and she looked up at me, her face pale. “I can explain,” she whispered. “I'm sure you can,” I said bitterly, folding my arms, “but nothing you say will erase what I've seen, what I've read.

” I tapped the folder, my eyes never leaving hers. “Emails…” Texts, lunch dates, late nights—you've been planning this for weeks, haven't you? Tears began to pool in her eyes as she shook her head weakly.

“It's not what you think,” she said, her voice trembling. “We—Todd and I—it’s not serious; it never went that far. ” His laugh was cold, devoid of humor.

“Not serious? ” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “You were rehearsing how to tell me you wanted a date night with another man, Sher?

You planned to come home to me afterward like nothing happened, and you call that not serious? ” Sher's composure began to crumble, her shoulders shaking as tears spilled over. “I made a mistake,” she choked out, her voice barely audible.

“I didn't mean for it to get this far. I never wanted to hurt you. ” “You didn't mean to hurt me,” he said, his voice rising for the first time.

“You lied to me, betrayed me, and then convinced yourself that I'd be okay with it. You thought I'd sit here and let you make a fool of me. ” Her sobs grew louder, her hands clutching the edge of the table as if it were the only thing grounding her.

“Please listen to me,” she pleaded. “I’ll end it; I’ll quit my job; I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. ” He shook his head slowly, his expression hard.

“It's too late for that, Sher,” he said, his voice heavy with finality. “I want a divorce. ” The words hit her like a physical blow, and she gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head violently. “No, you don’t mean that; you can’t mean that. ” “I do,” he said firmly.

“I’ve already spoken to a lawyer. You’ll be served the papers by Friday. ” Her face crumpled, and she buried it in her hands, her sobs muffled but heart-wrenching.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Don't do this; don't throw away everything we built. ” He stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back.

“You threw it away the moment you chose him over us,” he said coldly. “I'm done, Sher. ” As he turned to leave the room, her cries echoed behind him, but he didn’t look back.

The tranquility of the kitchen had been shattered, replaced by the raw, unfiltered reality of their broken marriage. The confrontation had ended, but the aftermath would linger like the bitter taste of unfinished wine. As the front door closed behind him, leaving Sherry alone in the silence of the house, she felt her world crumbling.

Desperation surged, and she ran after him, stopping him at the foot of the stairs. Her voice cracked as she called out, “Please wait. ” He turned, his face a mask of exhaustion and cold resolve, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of the pain he tried to hide.

“Please let me explain,” she pleaded, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as though trying to hold the pieces of herself together. “I swear it wasn't physical; it never got that far. I know I betrayed trust, but it was just—I don't know what I was thinking.

I was lonely; I felt disconnected from you, from us. ” Her voice wavered, and tears streamed down her face. “Todd made me feel noticed, like I mattered again, but it was a mistake—all of it.

I see that now. I never stopped loving you, I swear. ” He stood motionless, her words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit.

The mention of love felt hollow, almost mocking, yet her raw vulnerability forced him to pause. Her words didn’t excuse her actions, but they illuminated the cracks that had formed in their foundation long before Todd entered their lives. For a moment, he let his mind drift to the past, to the love they had once shared.

He remembered the early days of their marriage when everything had felt effortless, as though they were the only two people in the world—long walks in the park, laughter over shared inside jokes, and quiet evenings spent painting Christmas village houses together. Back then, even the simplest moments had felt extraordinary because they were together. But time had worn away that magic.

He recalled the growing distance, how their shared laughter had been replaced by polite small talk, and their once intimate nights had dwindled into routine silence. Somewhere along the way, their priorities had shifted, and they had stopped making time for each other. Still, as much as he acknowledged his own role in the erosion of their marriage, he couldn't ignore the weight of her betrayal.

“Maybe we both made mistakes,” he said finally, his voice low and heavy. “But you made a choice, Sher—a choice to turn away from me when things got hard. ” Her sobs grew louder, but he didn't comfort her.

Instead, he turned again and walked away, the echo of his footsteps leaving behind a haunting stillness. In the sterile quiet of the therapist's office, Sher and the narrator sat across from each other, the space between them vast despite their physical proximity. The therapist, a soft-spoken man with kind eyes, guided their conversation gently, encouraging them to explore the roots of their pain.

For the first time in years, they spoke openly about their feelings, fears, and regrets. Yet each word seemed to deepen the chasm between them. Sherry described the loneliness that had crept into her life, her yearning for connection, and the guilt that consumed her as her emotional entanglement with Todd unfolded.

Her voice cracked as she admitted, “I was selfish. I wasn't thinking about us, about what we had. I thought I was finding something I’d lost, but now I see I was only pushing it further away.

” Her words stirred a flicker of empathy in the narrator. He recognized the isolation she described because he had felt it too; he had been equally complicit in allowing their bond to weaken. But he hadn't sought.

. . "Solace in someone else" — that was the line she had crossed, the line he couldn't move past.

When it was his turn to speak, he didn't hold back. He spoke of the humiliation and betrayal, the sleepless nights filled with suspicion, and the sharp pain of seeing the evidence laid bare. "It's not just about what you did," he said, his voice steady but pained.

"It's about the trust you shattered, the trust I don't know how to rebuild. Every time I think about forgiving you, I remember those pictures, those messages, and I can't. " The therapist acknowledged the depth of their wounds but suggested a path forward: rebuilding trust through honesty, rekindling their connection with time, and letting go of the past.

Yet, as the sessions continued, it became clear that the damage was too extensive, the narrator's walls were too high, and her remorse, however genuine, wasn't enough to dismantle them. On the final day of therapy, the narrator spoke with a quiet resolve. "I've tried to find a way to move past this, but I can't.

I'll always wonder, always doubt, and that's no way to live for either of us. " Her tears fell freely, but she didn't argue. Somewhere deep down, she knew he was right.

As they left the office for the last time, it was clear their marriage was over, irreparably fractured by choices that couldn't be undone. The legal proceedings were as cold and transactional as the emotional wreckage that had preceded them. Sitting across from Sherry in the sterile confines of the mediator's office, the narrator couldn't help but feel a bitter sense of finality.

This wasn't the life they had envisioned a decade ago when they stood before family and friends and pledged forever to one another. Now, forever had come to an unceremonious end, boiled down to numbers and signatures. The mediator began by outlining the division of assets.

Their home, once filled with laughter and shared dreams, was to be sold. The proceeds would be divided equitably, though not evenly. Her emotional infidelity, though not physical, carried weight in the proceedings.

The evidence provided by the private investigator painted a clear picture of her betrayal. This, coupled with her admission during therapy, tipped the scales in the narrator's favor. Sherry's share of the marital assets was diminished as a result; she was to receive less than half of the proceeds from the sale of the house.

The rest would go to the narrator, along with the larger share of their savings. The decision was met with a resigned silence from Sherry; she had no room to protest. She understood the consequences of her actions.

The cars were divided with similar logic; the narrator retained the newer vehicle, one he had been paying for on his own, while Sherry was left with the older model. It was a stark representation of how their once-shared life had been dismantled, piece by piece, into separate and unequal parts. Meanwhile, Todd's situation took its own turn.

His wife, who had also hired a private investigator, acted decisively. Once she had the evidence of his emotional affair with Sherry, their divorce was swift and uncompromising, leaving Todd with even fewer resources than Sherry. But the irony didn't end there.

Despite his promises and assurances to Sherry, Todd showed no intention of committing to her once his own marriage ended. When Sherry attempted to reach out to him, seeking solace in the man she had jeopardized her marriage for, she was met with cold detachment. Todd had already moved on, pursuing a younger woman he had met through work.

His emotional manipulation, once cloaked in words of affection and understanding, revealed itself as self-serving opportunism. By the end of it all, Sherry was left isolated, her life in disarray. She had lost her marriage, her home, and the man she thought would offer her a new beginning.

The consequences of her choices weighed heavily on her, leaving her to confront the emptiness they had created. The narrator, meanwhile, found a sense of closure. Though the process had been painful, it marked a turning point, a chance to rebuild without the shadow of betrayal looming overhead.

As the final papers were signed, he walked away resolute in his decision to leave the past behind. For both of them, the legal proceedings were more than a division of assets; they were the closing chapter of a life they could never reclaim. The divorce, though painful, marked the beginning of a new chapter for the narrator.

Freed from the weight of betrayal and distrust, he embraced his newfound independence with a sense of purpose. The mornings no longer began with tension and suspicion but with quiet moments of reflection and gratitude. He rediscovered the simple pleasures of life: exploring local parks, taking long drives to nowhere, and reconnecting with old friends.

These activities, once overshadowed by the heaviness of his crumbling marriage, became a source of joy and renewal. As weeks turned into months, opportunities for growth appeared. He took up photography, finding solace and creativity in capturing the world through a new lens.

Weekends were filled with workshops and meetups, where he found camaraderie among others who shared his passion. Through these interactions, he met people who enriched his life in unexpected ways, including a woman whose laughter and warmth reminded him of the possibilities of a fresh start. While he approached this budding relationship with caution, he also allowed himself to feel hopeful about love again.

In contrast, Sherry's life unraveled further. Left alone after Todd's abrupt departure, she found herself isolated. Todd had been a fleeting escape, not the lasting connection she had imagined.

The relationships she tried to pursue afterward felt shallow and unsatisfying. Men who were initially interested in her were deterred by the baggage she carried, and she struggled to find someone willing to build something meaningful. Her nights grew lonelier; her once busy social calendar replaced by evenings of scrolling through old photos and messages, haunted by what she had lost.

Sher reflected on her decisions with a mix of regret and shame, finally admitting to herself the depth of her mistakes. "How could I have been so blind? " she wondered, her voice echoing in an empty house.

The realization that she had traded something real and enduring for a fleeting thrill was a bitter pill to swallow. The contrast between their lives was stark: while the narrator thrived, forging a new path filled with promise and joy, Sher remained trapped in the consequences of her actions. Her efforts to rebuild her life were hindered by her inability to forgive herself fully, leaving her in a cycle of self-doubt and longing for the stability she once had.

As the story drew to a close, the message became clear: life is shaped by the choices we make and the responsibility we take for those choices. The narrator's growth illustrated the power of resilience and the importance of letting go, while Sher's struggles underscored the lasting impact of regret and missed opportunities. Together, their journeys offered a poignant reminder of the importance of trust, honesty, and the courage to face the consequences of one's actions.