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What I Learned About Love When My 10-Year Relationship Ended
I thought love meant fighting for it. But when my husband walked away, I discovered a truth I had been avoiding.
My boots pressed into soft earth when he said, “I don’t want this relationship with you anymore.”
We were walking through the forest, ten minutes from the house we had just moved into — the one that was supposed to be our next chapter.
The words didn’t land at first. They hovered in the air between us.
I turned to him, waiting for the follow-up — the softening, the reassurance. We’re struggling, but we’ll fix it. We’re tired, but we’ll rest. We love each other, so we stay.
But no. His face was unshaken.
He repeated it, slower this time.
The ground beneath me stayed solid, but I was falling.
I had been fighting. Hard. For us. For the version of love I so much believed in.
Dragging us to therapy. Bending myself into versions of me, I hoped he could still love. I played the part of the understanding, caring partner while silencing the parts of me that were screaming.
