Crestfallen [COMPLETED]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ - 15

Joanna

"Alex, please listen to me," my voice was desperate. But he had already turned away, his steps echoing in the hollow hallway.

His words cut deep, the pain of his accusations still raw and searing.

"Don't come after me, Joanna," his voice was cold, a finality as if he didn't want anything to do with me.

"I hate you for this," he turned as he walked away, his figure turn smaller and smaller until he disappeared from view.

The silence that followed his departure was deafening, the weight of his words pressing down on me like an unbearable burden.

I sank to the ground, my knees giving way beneath me.

Tears streamed down my face, my sobs escaping me in uncontrollable waves.

"How can you say that," I whispered to the empty space, my voice trembling with anguish.

"How... how could you hate me, Alex?"

My body shook with each sob.
The reality of what had just transpired crashed over me.

How had we gone from laughter and shared dreams to this? How had our love turned into this painful, fractured mess?

How did we found ourselves in such dark times?

As I lay on the ground, tears staining my cheeks, I couldn't help but feel the overwhelming weight of his absence.

The emptiness he had left behind. In me.

And in that moment, I hated how much power he had over me.

And the ability to break me even further. This is what had scared me my entire life.

Forming relationships.Getting too attached that when someone else pulled themselves back, tearing the strings, that bound me emotionally, it would destroy me.

But amidst all this pain and heartache. I refused to let this be the end.
To let his anger define the entirety of our relationship.

I knew that I had made a mistake, , but I was willing to fight, to try and rebuild what we had lost.

I wiped away my tears, my resolve hardening. I wouldn't let his words be the end of us.

................................................................

The weight of Alex's coldness hung in the air, suffocating and undeniable. It felt like an invisible barrier had formed between us, a barrier that no words or gestures could breach.

Days turned into nights, and we lived under the same roof, yet it was as if we were worlds apart.

Sitting on the couch, I stared at the clock with a heavy heart. It was the fifth anniversary of our wedding, tonight. Five years of our togetherness and commitment to each other. Of our irrevocable love.

But instead of joy and laughter, there was an unsettling silence that echoed through the house.

Alex was away at a medical conference.

I glanced at my phone, waiting,
hoping for a call or even a message from him. Just a simple acknowledgment that he remembered our special day.

Yet, as the clock's hands ticked past midnight, the phone remained silent.

Tears welled up in my eyes as the truth settled in.

He hadn't remembered. He hadn't called.

Or he simply didn't care anymore?

The weight of his indifference pressed down on me, and I felt a lump form in my throat.

As the minutes turned into hours, I hugged a cushion tightly against my chest, the heartache too much for me to bear.

The memories of our early days together flashed through my mind, the laughter, the banters, the intimacy.

It felt like a distant past,
too beautiful to have ever
been true.

I wiped away a tear, my fingers trembling.

Maybe he had been busy.
Maybe he would call in the morning. Yes.
I held onto a flicker of hope. I had to. For us.

But as the sun began to rise and the dawn's light filtered through the window, the truth became undeniable.

He hadn't forgotten;
he had chosen to ignore.

The pain of his indifference cut deep, a wound that felt raw and fresh.

I longed to hear his voice, to feel his touch. I longed for him.

But it seemed that the more I reached out, the further he withdrew.

As I sat there, the weight of our fractured relationship settling heavily on my shoulders, I couldn't help but wonder if there was a way to mend what was broken.

I feared that this distance might be too great to overcome.

Gulping back my tears, I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes.

In that moment, all I could do was hold onto the memories of what once was.

And hope that somehow, someday, we could find our way back to each other.