Patience Heart

Saying Goodbye

Working as an interior designer in San Francisco provided me with the perfect cover. I could lose myself in the world of design, immersing myself in the visions of others while keeping my own complex reality at bay. Each project was a canvas where I could build and shape spaces that weren't mine, creating worlds I would never inhabit. This distraction was precisely what I needed to avoid confronting the painful truth of my past.

The process of divorcing Adam was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I had severed every link to my previous life—cutting off my phone number, shutting down all my social media accounts, determined to erase every trace of who I once was. It took months of steely resolve to muster the courage to send the divorce papers. With Samil's help, I used a fake IP address to make sure it was nearly impossible for Adam to trace me. When I finally hit send, it was a moment of both relief and dread. It had been a year since I made the decision to run away, and this was the final, decisive step in closing a chapter that had been so painful.

Despite my efforts to disappear, Adam's emails started flooding in almost immediately. His messages were relentless and raw, each one pleading for answers, begging for some semblance of understanding. It was clear he wasn't ready to let go, even after a year of my absence. Each email seemed to cut through the walls I had so painstakingly erected around myself, each word a reminder of the kindness, love, and unwavering goodness Adam had shown me. I couldn't bring myself to read them all at once—they tugged at my heartstrings and threatened to undo the resolve I had fought so hard to build.

The emails came one after another, each more heart-wrenching than the last. They were like a relentless tide of anguish, crashing against the fragile dam I had built to keep my emotions in check.

"Viola, where are you?" he wrote in one.

"I received the divorce papers. What is this about?" came another.

"I can't do this, Viola. Please talk to me."

Each message was a desperate cry for answers, a plea for some form of closure that I wasn't prepared to provide. Despite my attempts to disappear completely, his words seemed to seep into every corner of my new life, constantly reminding me of the love and pain that once defined our relationship.

I felt torn between the need to remain steadfast in my decision and the overwhelming guilt that came from seeing how deeply I had hurt him. I had hoped that by cutting off all contact, I could finally move on. But instead, each email from Adam was a relentless echo of the past, pulling me back into the emotional maelstrom I was trying so hard to escape.

In the face of this emotional turmoil, Samil urged me to respond. He said it was important to ensure Adam knew I was truly gone. So, when I finally composed a reply, I kept it brief and impersonal, trying to strike a balance between distancing myself and acknowledging the pain I knew my absence had caused.

To: Adam
From: Viola

"Adam, it's over. I'm sorry, but this is for the best. Please sign the papers and move on. We both need to start fresh."

Sending this email felt like plunging a knife into my own heart. I knew how much it would hurt him to read those words, but I also knew it was necessary for both of us to find a way to move forward.

His response came almost immediately. It wasn't what I had expected.

From: Adam
To: Viola

Dear my lovely wife Viola,

I never wanted this. I only agreed to send you to Frankfurt because I was scared. I was terrified of hurting you like I did before. Do you remember what happened when you had those cramps? I couldn't trust myself to be around you. I didn't want to lose control again.