I remember staring at the screen, my heart pounding so loud it felt like it would break through my chest.
Then he replied:
“My wife is dead. I’m looking for love again.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Dead.
That’s what I was to him.
Dead… while I was still cooking his meals, washing his clothes, sleeping beside him every night.
I felt something inside me shatter in that moment. Not just my trust—my entire reality.
I didn’t confront him.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry in front of him.
Instead, I became quiet.
Very quiet.
I started planning my divorce silently. Looking at apartments. Saving money. Talking to a lawyer when he thought I was visiting a friend.
Every day, I smiled like nothing was wrong.
Every night, I lay next to a man who had already buried me in his mind.
Then, a few days later… something strange happened.
He came home early.
