SHE WAS NEVER MINE

SHE WAS NEVER MINE

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WpMetadataReadComplete Sun, Jun 2, 20242h 0m
you? You did that? ... She asked tears streaming down her eyes Trust me love! I never did that... I' could never!!! You were the only one I wanted!!!.... Came my reply What about the proof? How are you gonna justify them? One can lie but what about her? She wouldn't lie to me right? She told me everything that happened between you and her!!!!! She screamed Idk what proof you're talking about but trust me! Please believe me love I never did that! I would never! I cried being helpless I told you I'll snatch her away from you just the way you did! She was never yours to begin with! She was mine always and forever!! She left you! Are you dreaming? She left you she fucking left you! She ain't coming to you ever again! You son of a bitch! What did you do! Why did you do that!??? FUCKING SPEAK UP! it was easy! Asking your past lovers to help me out and guess what? They did and she being naive believed her!
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I was thirteen the first time someone told me I talked like I was broken. Not stupid. Not mute. Just... broken. Like my mouth was a machine with missing parts and no one had the patience to wait while I found them. Every syllable was a landmine. My tongue seized, breath caught, throat locked like it was trying to save me from humiliation-only making it worse. When I did speak? People squirmed. Looked away. Finished my sentences like they were doing me a favor. Teachers got frustrated. My father spoke for me at interviews. My mother apologized for me at dinners. So I learned to stay quiet. Silence was safer. Cleaner. By eighteen, I had mastered it. Lived inside it. Until her. She found me in the library, fumbling over the word borrow. I couldn't say it. She could've looked away. Instead, she smiled. "Take your time," she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Iris. Paint-stained fingers. Worn-out shoes. Two jobs. Still made time to sit with me, showing me how to breathe through the stutter-not over it. Not around it. Through it. She treated me like I wasn't fragile. Like I was whole. And slowly-I changed. I began speaking in full sentences. Started holding eye contact. I could introduce myself at business events without trembling. And finally "fit" to inherit my father's name. I became the heir my parent always wanted. And when it came time to choose a wife-an arranged match-I said yes. Not because I loved her. Because she was easy. Perfect in public. Iris didn't fit that world. And I didn't realize I'd cut out the best part of myself until she was gone. She just left. Quietly. Like she'd expected it. Now, I hear her absence louder than I ever heard her voice. But I'll find her. And I'll say what I should've said from the start. Even if it takes a thousand broken words- I'll make her hear me. Cover photo courtesy of Vecteezy.com

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