When I was 17, I was in a 3.5-year relationship (2 years long-distance) with my ex—we’ll call him Ben. Those last two years of high school were incredibly stressful. I was under pressure about college, and my mental health was in a bad place. After finishing school, I went home to recover. While I was there, my cousins and I pulled a prank on Ben. We made a fake Instagram account of an attractive girl to see how he’d respond. I genuinely thought he’d catch on, or shut it down quickly, and I’d reveal it was a joke.

Instead, he took the bait immediately. He flirted heavily, got very excited, asked questions about who she was, and why she liked him. I got a little uncomfortable, but kept going—maybe the fake girl was too pretty for him to ignore. So I took it further: I told him the photos weren’t mine, and sent him different photos of a girl who didn’t match his type. I expected him to block her. Instead, he replied, “You’re so beautiful and sexy.” Later that same day, he asked her if they could meet—and have sex. I was crushed. It was exactly how he used to talk to me.

I didn’t tell him the whole truth at first—I just said someone sent me screenshots of his messages. He denied everything. Then his sister jumped in, claiming she had used his account to flirt “for fun” because she saw a message come in. Together, they gaslit me so hard, I started doubting what I knew.

I left for college abroad a month later. He begged me not to go, and I promised we’d talk. But once I got there, he barely communicated. I was the one starting a new life in a new country; he was taking a gap year and still ignoring me. A month in, I confronted him again—this time I told him everything. That I was behind the fake account. That I knew it was him. He panicked. Said he was depressed during our long-distance years. That he was lonely, and not in his right mind. He said he’d started smoking. He begged me to stay and made me feel like a horrible person for even thinking of leaving him.

So I stayed. But emotionally, I was done. I couldn’t find a way out—he always found a way to guilt me into staying. Around that time, I had a friend in college who really supported me. He listened. I ended up cheating on Ben with him—not out of lust, but because I needed a way out. I thought, “If I tell him this, he’ll finally let me go.”

When I went home for vacation, I confessed. But even then, Ben didn’t let me leave. He said he forgave me—just like I had forgiven him. I felt so stuck. I emotionally detached from the relationship and carried on with life, just going through the motions while focusing on myself. It took me almost a full year after the cheating to finally leave for good. And not long after, I met someone truly incredible—who’s now been my boyfriend for 3 years. He’s never made me question my worth, or my sanity.

Still, sometimes I wonder—my ex didn’t physically cheat (as far as I know), but I did. Even if I felt trapped and emotionally manipulated... cheating is cheating, right?

So, AITA