HE LOVED ME WHILE LOVING HER

Leaving Him

The decision to leave Damien wasn’t sudden. It was a slow unraveling of every broken promise, every lie, every bruise I had hidden beneath long sleeves and forced smiles. After the police interview, the weight of silence between us was unbearable, heavier than any fight or harsh word we’d ever exchanged.

He tried to reach me — apologies, promises, excuses — but his words felt empty, meaningless echoes against the damage he had done. The man I once loved was gone, replaced by someone I barely recognized.

I packed my bags quietly, folding memories into each piece of clothing. The apartment that had once felt like home now felt like a prison I was finally escaping. Every step toward the door was a step away from fear, pain, and control.

When I walked out, I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to see the man who had loved me while loving another, who had shattered me in so many ways.

Friends took me in without judgment, offering warmth and safety I hadn’t felt in years. I started therapy, facing the nightmares Damien left behind — the self-doubt, the silence, the endless “what ifs.” Healing wasn’t a straight path. Some days, the pain swallowed me whole; other days, I found sparks of strength I didn’t know I had.

Little by little, I began to remember who I was beyond the bruises and broken dreams. I laughed again. I dreamed again. I hoped again.

Standing by the window one evening, the city lights flickering outside, I realized something powerful: I was no longer a victim. I was a survivor.

And survivors don’t just live. They rise.