Time.
The cruel accountant.
The silent witness.
The one thing in this world
that records every wound
without ever taking sides.
Time watched me love her.
Time watched me explain myself.
Time watched me repeat the same truth
so many times
that even my own voice
started sounding like an apology.
And still—
she believed the stories
inside her own mind
more than the man standing
right in front of her.
I could hand her honesty
wrapped in certainty.
She would unwrap suspicion.
I could give her facts.
She would manufacture motives.
I could tell her what I felt.
She would tell me what I meant.
And somehow,
every conversation became a courtroom.
Every disagreement became a trial.
Every explanation became evidence
against me.
She wasn’t listening to understand.
She was listening to confirm
the verdict she’d already written.
And time watched.
It watched me spend years
trying to prove sunlight
to someone determined
to call it darkness.
Do you know what that does to a man?
To be seen
but never understood.
To be heard
but never believed.
To be present
but never known.
It’s a strange kind of loneliness.
The kind that doesn’t come
from being alone.
The kind that comes
from being beside someone
who refuses to meet you where you stand.
Because love requires curiosity.
Love asks questions.
Love says,
“Help me understand.”
But pride?
Pride writes answers
before the questions are finished.
And she had answers for everything.
Why I was wrong.
Why I was selfish.
Why I was the problem.
Why I deserved the distance.
Why I deserved the silence.
Why I deserved the coldness.
Everything had an explanation.
Everything except her own reflection.
Time.
That old witness.
It watched me starve.
Not for food.
For affection.
For understanding.
For kindness.
For the basic human decency
we give strangers
without hesitation.
I wasn’t asking for perfection.
I wasn’t asking for worship.
I wasn’t asking to be right.
I was asking for compassion.
The kind you give a wounded animal.
The kind you give a crying child.
The kind you give another human being.
But somehow,
that request became too expensive.
Yet criticism remained free.
Assumptions remained free.
Blame remained free.
The benefit of the doubt?
That cost more
than she was willing to pay.
And time watched me shrink.
Piece by piece.
Year by year.
Conversation by conversation.
Not because I lacked strength.
