Infidelity hits differently when you're in an arranged marriage or long-term engagement. Daniel Brooks shares raw advice from real heartbreak — and what to do when loyalty fractures under cultural pressure.
Personal Note
This article is written in a personal voice and structured for comfort reading: short paragraphs, clear headings, and practical next steps.
So I never thought I’d be the guy giving relationship advice especially about cheating. But after my cousin’s arranged marriage fell apart last year — and my sister’s engagement ended the same way — I’ve had to get real about loyalty, pressure, & how people break when expectations don’t match reality.
I grew up in a Bangladeshi-American household in Queens. Marriage wasn’t about dating around. It was about family approval, careful matches, and long engagements — sometimes two or three years of waiting. Sounds traditional. Noble even. But it’s also pressure-cooker territory.
I watched my cousin Rina meet her future husband for the first time at a dinner with both families. Polite smiles. Careful questions. They got engaged that night. The wedding? Scheduled for eighteen months later. That gap — supposed to be for planning — turned into emotional drift.
She started texting an old college friend. Then late-night calls. Then meeting for coffee when her fiancé was out of town. None of it physical, she said. But emotional? Absolutely. And when her fiancé found the messages — it broke him. Not because she slept with someone else, but because she gave parts of herself away when she was already spoken for.
Like — I get it. You’re told to commit to someone you barely know. Then you’re expected to stay emotionally off-limits for years while living your life. That’s a lot.
And here’s the thing people don’t talk about: cheating isn’t always about sex. It’s about where your heart goes when you’re lonely. When you’re expected to love someone on a schedule but your feelings aren’t there yet — or never show up.
I’ve sat with guys who felt trapped. One told me, “I didn’t want to disrespect my parents by backing out. But I wasn’t in love. Then I met someone who looked at me like I mattered.” He didn’t act on it. But he carried that guilt like a brick.
So what do you do?
First — talk. Actually talk. Not with your parents or matchmaker. With your partner. Even if it’s awkward. Even if you’ve only had five conversations in six months.
Ask: “Do you feel this? Or are we just going through motions?”
No scripts. No filters. If the answer is “I don’t know,” that’s better than pretending.
Second — define boundaries together. Not your family’s version of loyalty. Yours. Does late-night texting count as cheating? What about sharing personal fears with someone else? Be specific.
I had a friend who told his fiancée: “If you’re going through something, I want to be the first person you call — not the last.” She didn’t agree at first. But they worked it out. They’re married now. Not because they were perfect — but because they set rules before things went sideways.
Third — don’t use time apart as a free pass. Long distance? Family pressure? Work stress? Fine. But don’t pretend loneliness justifies emotional affairs. You’re still choosing.
I’ve seen people say, “It didn’t feel like cheating because we weren’t married yet.” That’s a dodge. Commitment starts when you say yes — not when you say vows.
And if you’re the one who’s been betrayed? Don’t rush to forgive because “it wasn’t real marriage.” Your pain is real. Your boundaries matter.
One woman I know — married two years in an arranged match — discovered her husband had been seeing someone for months. Her family said: “Just fix it. Don’t shame us.” She almost did. Then she asked for space. Therapy. A real conversation — not just damage control.
She didn’t leave. But she didn’t pretend, either. She said: “I’ll stay. But we rebuild — my way.”
That’s power. Not revenge. Clarity.
Separation isn’t failure. Sometimes it’s survival.
If you’re in an engagement or marriage that feels like a performance — ask yourself: who am I trying to protect? My family’s pride? Tradition? Or my own chance at real love?
And if you’ve crossed a line — don’t hide. Own it. Not with excuses. With honesty.
I once told a guy after he confessed to emotional cheating: “You don’t get to say you were lonely and expect that to erase it. You had options. You made a choice. Now live with it — and fix what you can.”
Hard? Yeah. But real.
There’s no manual for this. No cultural rulebook that covers the quiet moments when your heart wanders. But you don’t have to pretend.
Talk. Set real boundaries. Respect the weight of commitment — even when no one’s watching
Because loyalty isn’t just about staying faithful. It’s about showing up — honestly — even when it’s hard
