I picked up my scarf from the armchair, my hands trembling, and walked past him without a word. He followed me to the door, trying to explain, to justify, to reach for my arm—but I couldn’t let him touch me again. “I hope she’s worth what you threw away,” I said finally, before leaving for good.
I still love him. And that’s the cruelest part. Because love doesn’t disappear the moment trust does—it just hurts deeper every day until it finally fades.
