Lessons From a Woman Scorned

I used to believe I could read him better than anyone. I knew the rhythm of his moods, the way his voice changed when he was tired, the way his breathing slowed when he was trying to hide something. For three years, even without a label, we lived in a space that felt familiar and safe. At least, that was what I thought.

There was a time when he made me feel chosen, even without saying the words out loud. A time when his attention felt steady, when his presence brought comfort instead of anxiety. I held onto that version of him, the version I fell for, even as he slowly became someone I didn't recognize.

I didn't notice the change at first. It happened quietly, like a dimming light you only realize is fading once the room has already gone dark. One moment, things felt normal. The next, everything felt off, like something invisible had shifted between us.

That was when it started.