Reminisce

It has been two years. It cost me everything to walk away from the one I loved with every corner of my being. For so long, he was the axis around which my life revolved, and there was a time I believed my future, my family, would be with him. But as much as I longed for it, God knew best. 

Have I moved on? Yes. But not from the ache, not from the weight of unfairness. There were nights I lay on the floor, pleading for a thousand more apologies that would never arrive, yet the world kept turning.

I do not hold grudges anymore. I could bump into my past lover and feel absolutely nothing, as if I had never lost sleep watching over him when he burned with fever, as if I had never looked into his eyes and vowed that I would endure poverty so long as he was by my side. Perhaps I took on the role of a wife far too early, didn’t I?

But one thing for sure: the younger Husna deserved more than silence, more than sorrow, more than the hollow echo of apologies. I owed her that. He owed her that.

And as much as I hear the words, “You should’ve moved on, it’s been years,” I know this: If anyone were to bear even half of what I carried, they too would feel their sanity slipping. For moving on is easier for those who never bled their time, love, energy, money, and most of all, their self-worth and respect into someone who only knew how to break what was sacred.