It was a few years ago.

At the time, my wife and I were in the heat of love. Her best friend got divorced and had nowhere to go (her hometown was elsewhere),
so my wife asked her to move in to my house, and I didn’t know about it.
I was working overtime at my office that day, and I didn’t get home until almost 11 p.m. After washing up, I went straight into the spare bedroom, and I didn’t even turn on the light. Then I pulled back the covers and lay down, wrapping my arms around the person next to me.
I thought it was my wife, but it didn’t feel right. When I turned on the light and looked, it turned out to be her best friend.
At the time, I didn’t know her best friend had come to our home, and before that she had always been the one sleeping in the spare bedroom instead of my wife.
The key point is that I have a habit of sleeping naked. Back then, I wasn’t wearing anything at all. I quickly turned off the light and went to the master bedroom. Luckily, my wife was still sound asleep in the master bedroom.
In the next few days, every time I met her best friend, she would blush.
Her best friend probably stayed at my house for more than three months, and then she moved out.
I never told anyone about this; I could only let it rot inside my belly.