Three years into marriage, my husband wanted to sleep apart. I resisted, but failed. One night I made a hole in the wall—and what I saw sh0cked me.

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But I stopped waiting for embraces or heartfelt remarks. I simply lived in silence, watching, waiting, and shaping my decision.

One morning, I placed the divorce papers on the table where he was sitting with his coffee.

When he lifted them, his eyes widened with surprise. I flashed him a frail but determined smile and said:

— I understand now, darling. I shouldn’t cling to a heart that wasn’t mine.

I’m leaving so you can live your life freely. He remained motionless for a long time, his hands quivering and his eyes inflamed. But eventually, he said nothing to stop me.

When I eventually left that house, my bag was light, but my chest was uncomfortably heavy. Filled with love, pain, and longing… I felt lighter, too, since I knew I’d made the correct decision: I was freeing us both. On the road ahead, I determined to live a different life, one in which my heart could no longer hide behind any shadows.

I’d learn to value myself, and when the time came, I’d look for a pure love meant exclusively for me, one that wasn’t shared with memories or spirits. This time, I vowed to never lose myself again.