I know you’ve been seeing her. And I think a part of me already knew, long before I had proof. I just didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe that someone I loved so fully could let me stay in the dark while he handed pieces of himself to someone else.
I don’t even know how to explain the ache of it. Because this isn’t just about another girl—it’s about the promises we made. It’s about every quiet moment I stood by you when you were slipping away. Every time I convinced myself to be patient, to trust that the silence meant you were overwhelmed, not that you were turning your heart toward someone else.
I held so much space for you. For us. I made excuses for your distance. I stayed soft when it would’ve been easier to get angry. I chose to believe you were struggling, not abandoning. I believed in you—in us—even when I felt invisible. I waited through the late nights, the broken plans, the gaps in conversation, because I thought that’s what love was supposed to do: stay, even when it hurts.
You told me I was different. You told me you felt safe with me. You told me you weren’t going anywhere. And even when your actions started to unravel those words, I kept believing. I thought we were walking a hard road together, not realizing you had already started writing a new story without me.
The truth is, I deserved more. I deserved your honesty. I deserved your presence. I deserved to be told when you stopped choosing me. Not after the fact, not by accident—but from your own mouth, with the respect we both promised each other.
You let me stand in a burning house, still watering the plants, still trying to keep everything alive—while you were already building a home somewhere else.
That’s the part that guts me the most. Not that you drifted. Not even that you fell for someone else. But that you let me stay. You let me love you with everything I had, while you gave that part of yourself away.
I would have forgiven anything but the lie.
You may never understand the depth of what you lost. But I know what I gave. I know what it meant. And someday, maybe when it’s quiet and you’re alone, you’ll realize it too.
