We had been married for 3 years, the love was still intense, when suddenly one day my husband, with a serious face, said:
“I want to sleep alone for a while…”
I was paralyzed. For a woman, hearing that is like lightning in the middle of the sky. I cried, I got angry, I even opposed it with all my might, but he stood his ground. In the end, helpless, I had to accept.
But inside me doubts boiled. I wondered, “Will he have another woman outside? Could it be that he already feels rejection for me?” Suspicions gnawed at me day and night, took away my sleep and appetite.
One night, taking advantage of the fact that my husband was not at home, I dared to hire a worker to make a small hole, the size of a thumb, in the corner of the wall of his bedroom.
The next night, with my heart pounding, I went over and glued my eye to the hole. He trembled from head to toe.
And then… I almost fainted.
In the room, my husband wasn’t hugging any women. He was on his knees, with candles, incense, and an old photograph in front of him. His eyes red, as he murmured the name of a woman and cried like a child.
That woman… She was not a stranger. It was the wedding photo with his first wife, who died 5 years ago.
He wanted to sleep alone, not because he deceived me, but because he needed, in silence, to “return” to those memories, to that first love he had never forgotten.
I dropped to the floor, tears welling in my eyes. The anger faded, only bitter pain mixed with compassion remained: all this time it was not that he was betraying me, but that I was living with a heart that had never belonged to me.
I sat on the cold floor, my trembling fingers still clinging to the edge of the hole. The image of my husband kneeling before the portrait of his deceased wife pierced my soul. I feared another living woman, a betrayal, but it turned out that I was competing with a shadow of the past.
I had thought that if my love was sincere and my constant care, one day he would love me again. But now I understood that there are wounds and loves that are impossible to replace. I was just a temporary guest in a house whose heart was sealed forever in yesterday.
That night I went back to my room, buried my face in the pillow, and cried until I was tearless. I was no longer angry with him, I only grieved for myself: a woman who had given her youth to a heart that never had a place for her.
The following days I continued to fulfill my duties: cooking, washing, cleaning. But I no longer expected hugs or words of affection. I just lived in silence, watching, preparing my decision.
One morning, I put the divorce papers on the table, in the place where he was drinking coffee. When he took them, he looked at me in surprise. I smiled, weak but determined:
“Honey, I got it…” I must not try to hold onto a heart that never belonged to me. I’m leaving, so you can live in your world with no strings attached.
He was silent for a long time, his hand trembling and his eyes red. But in the end, he said nothing to stop me.
The day I left that house, I was carrying light luggage, but a heavy heart. Heavy with love, sorrow, nostalgia… and, at the same time, freer, because I knew I had made the right decision: to free the two of us.
On the new path, I promised myself to live in a different way. A life in which my heart would not have to hide behind any shadow. I would learn to love myself, and to hope – if the time came – for a true love, one just for me, without sharing it with memories or ghosts.
And this time… I swore I’d never lose myself again.
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