Love and deceit
I knew I could not let this day define me, no matter how heavily the weight of my circumstances pressed upon me.
Slowly, I opened my journal that I had kept hidden away since the wedding, its pages a repository of dreams, regrets, and quiet rebellions. I began to write, letting the ink flow freely as I poured out every thought that churned in my heart. I wrote about the hollowness of the vows, the cold finality of the exchanged rings, and the emptiness behind every forced smile. I wrote about Damien’s distant demeanor—how, in his eyes, I saw not love, but a calculated obligation. And I wrote about Ethan, about the bittersweet hope he represented, even as the future seemed to close in around
Bab Populer