I am waking up every day wondering how my life is turning into this. I am replaying every memory, every touch, every laugh we once shared, and trying to understand where it all started falling apart. For four years, we are building something together — a home, a family, a life that I thought was real. We have a child who reminds me of him in every smile, every stubborn glance. I am thinking that we are happy, that our love is steady. But lately, everything is shifting in slow, painful motion.

He is coming home late, always distracted, pretending not to hear when I ask questions. He is not eating my food anymore, not holding me the way he used to. Nights are growing longer, colder. I am sensing something is wrong, but when I ask, he is turning cold, accusing me of nagging. 

The distance between us is growing wider until one day, it breaks completely. I am confronting him, and instead of talking, he is shouting, packing my things, and throwing me out. Just like that — four years and one child later, I am standing outside with my heart in pieces, watching the man I love shut the door on me.

Now I am living back home, trying to breathe again. My family is telling me to forget him, to move on, but my heart is not listening. I am still loving him, still missing the version of him who once looked at me like I was his whole world. I am trying to heal, but every time I think I am ready to let go, he is showing up again. He is smiling, pretending nothing happened, telling me he wants me back. For a moment, I am almost believing him — until he tells me something I can’t even process.

He is saying he has another woman. He is saying she makes him happy but that he still wants me too. He is asking me to join them — to be part of his life alongside her. He is saying it calmly, like it’s something reasonable, like it’s still love. I am sitting there, staring at him, feeling my stomach twist. I am realizing that this man who once promised me forever is now offering me a fraction of what I deserve.

I am torn. I still love him, and that’s the worst part. I am remembering every good thing we shared, and it is confusing me. But deep down, I am also craving peace — the kind that doesn’t come with humiliation or competition. I am wondering if loving him means losing myself again. I am wondering if peace means walking away, even when my heart still wants to stay.

He is standing there, waiting for an answer. I am sitting here, trying to remember who I was before love made me question my worth. Maybe this is the moment I am choosing myself — not because I stop loving him, but because I start loving me more.