Chapter Ten: When Love Starts Feeling Like Guilt
787 Words
I didn’t notice when things started changing inside me.
Not at first.
At the beginning, I thought I was okay.
I thought I had made the right choice.
I thought choosing him—my boyfriend—meant I was finally moving forward.
But guilt doesn’t arrive loudly.
It builds slowly.
Quietly.
In the background of your thoughts.
At first, it was small things.
I would laugh with him… and suddenly remember my ex.
I would hold his hand… and feel something heavy in my chest.
I would say “I love you”… and immediately question if I meant it fully.
And that’s when it started.
The confusion didn’t leave.
It just changed shape.
Because no matter how much I tried to focus on my present, my past was still there.
Not as a memory.
As a feeling.
And the worst part?
It didn’t feel like I had stopped loving my ex.
It felt like I had just buried it under everything else.
One night, I sat alone and everything just… came crashing in at once.
No distraction. No messages. No one around me.
Just silence.
And in that silence, I started thinking too much.
About him.
My ex.
About everything we went through.
About how deep it felt before everything broke.
About how even after everything, I still reacted when he texted.
Still felt something when I saw his name.
Still cared.
And then I started thinking about my boyfriend.
About how kind he was.
How safe he made me feel.
How he stayed when I was confused and broken.
And that was when the guilt hit me properly.
Because I realized something I didn’t want to admit out loud.
I was still emotionally attached to my ex.
And at the same time… I was developing real feelings for the person I was with now.
I covered my face with my hands.
Because it didn’t make sense.
How can you love someone who hurt you…
and also love someone who’s healing you?
It felt wrong.
It felt unfair.
It felt like I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to do.
And I started questioning myself.
Am I leading him on?
Am I being honest?
Am I even capable of choosing properly?
The guilt grew heavier.
And instead of getting clearer, I got more confused.
I stopped sleeping properly.
I stopped feeling fully present when I was with him.
Even when he held me, I felt distant.
Not because I didn’t care…
But because part of me was somewhere else.
And I hated myself for it.
One night, I couldn’t take it anymore.
We were together.
And everything felt normal on the outside.
But inside me, nothing was normal.
I looked at him and suddenly felt overwhelmed.
Not angry.
Not confused.
Just… guilty.
“I can’t do this,” I said quietly.
He looked at me immediately.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
My throat felt tight.
Because I knew what I was about to do would hurt him.
But staying felt worse.
“I still have feelings for my ex,” I admitted.
Silence.
Heavy silence.
I couldn’t even look at him properly.
“And I also have feelings for you,” I added quickly, because I didn’t want to be cruel.
But that didn’t make it better.
It made it worse.
Because now it wasn’t simple heartbreak.
It was emotional chaos.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said honestly.
And for the first time, I saw something in his face change.
Not anger.
Not shouting.
Just quiet disappointment.
Like he already knew something was off… but didn’t want it to be true.
“I think I need to be alone,” I said finally.
That was the hardest part.
Not leaving him.
But admitting I was not in a place where I could love anyone properly.
We didn’t argue.
We didn’t fight.
We just… ended.
Quietly.
Painfully.
And when I left, I didn’t feel relief.
I felt empty.
Because now I had no one in front of me.
And everything behind me still felt unfinished.
That night, I stayed alone in my room.
No distractions.
No conversations.
Just me and my thoughts.
And that’s when I realized something I didn’t want to face.
Breaking up didn’t remove my feelings.
It just exposed them again.
I still loved my ex.
And I still cared about him.
But now… I was alone with that truth.
And I didn’t know what to do with it.
I thought that would be the hardest part.
But I was wrong.
Because I didn’t know that someone was already on their way to my door.
Someone from my past.
Someone I wasn’t ready to face alone.
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