💔 We Had Been Married for Three Years, Our Love Still Strong and Ardent, When One Day My Husband, with a Serious Look, Abruptly Told Me: «I Want to Sleep Alone for a While…»
I was petrified. For a wife, these words strike like lightning. I cried, I flared up, I fought with all my might, but he remained unshakable. In the end, powerless, I had no choice but to give in.
Yet, an unease gnawed at me. I kept telling myself: «What if he’s seeing someone else? Does he already find me repulsive?» These fears obsessed me day and night, robbing me of my appetite and sleep.
One evening, while my husband was out, I finally dared to hire a worker to drill a tiny hole, no bigger than a thumb, in a corner of his bedroom wall.
The next night, my heart racing, I pressed my eye against that hole, my whole body trembling.
And then… I nearly collapsed from shock.
In the room, he was not holding another woman in his arms. He was kneeling, surrounded by candles, incense, and an old photograph. His eyes were swollen, tears were streaming down, as he whispered a woman’s name and sobbed like a lost child.
That woman… was not a stranger. It was his wedding photo with his first wife, the one who had died five years earlier.
If he had asked to sleep alone, it wasn’t to betray me, but because in silence he yearned to immerse himself in the memories of that first love he had never let go of. I slid to the floor, my eyes flooded with tears. My fury dissolved, replaced by immense sadness mixed with compassion: this was not betrayal, but the truth — I was sharing the life of a man whose heart had never belonged to me. Sitting on the cold tile, my hand still gripping the edge of the hole, my soul was in tatters before the image of my husband kneeling, praying before the portrait of his deceased wife. I feared a flesh-and-blood rival, an affair; in reality, my competitor was a remnant of the past.
I had hoped that with sincere and constant love, he would eventually turn to me. But I learned that some wounds and some passions cannot be replaced. I was only a visitor in a house where the heart had been sealed by «yesterday.»
That night, I returned to my room, buried my face in the pillow, and cried until I had no more tears. I was no longer angry with him; I only pitied myself — this woman who had offered her youth to a heart that had no room left for her.
In the days that followed, I continued my tasks: cooking, washing, tidying. But I stopped waiting for embraces or words that came from the heart. I simply lived in silence, observing, waiting, and shaping my decision.
One morning, I placed the divorce papers on the table, right where he drank his coffee. When he picked them up, his eyes widened. I gave him a fragile but resolute smile:
— «I understand now, my love. I should not cling to a heart that is not mine. I am leaving so that you can live freely.»
He remained still for a long time, his hands trembling, his eyes red. But, eventually, he said nothing to stop me.
When I left that house, my bag was light, but my chest was terribly heavy. Filled with love, pain, and loss… And yet lighter too, because I knew I had made the right choice: I was freeing both of us.
On the road ahead, I decided to lead a different life, one where my heart would no longer hide behind any shadow. I would learn to value myself, and when the time was right, I would seek a pure love, meant only for me — a love that would not be shared with memories or with ghosts.
This time, I swore to myself never to lose myself again.
