Shock

I guess I’m still trying to process what I saw earlier today. 

It hit me like a wave—sudden, sharp, and cold. 

My heart sank when I stumbled upon that website. 

I wasn’t snooping, I wasn’t looking for trouble… but there it was. 

In black and white. 

His profile. 

His picture. 

His words. 

Declaring himself as “single,” claiming to be “looking for a woman between the ages of 23 and 37.” 

How could he?

I stared at the screen, hoping I misread something, that somehow it was a mistake or someone else with the same name. 

But deep down, I knew. 

I knew it was him. 

And I knew it wasn’t a mistake. 

It was a choice. 

A deliberate, conscious choice he made without any regard for me or the vows we shared.

He should’ve come to me first. 

He could have sat me down and told me, “This marriage no longer makes me happy,” or “I feel like something is missing.” 

As painful as it would be to hear those words, at least it would’ve been honest. 

At least I would’ve known the truth from his mouth—not discovered it in such a devastating way. 

But instead, he created a profile. 

Instead, he chose to open a door for someone else while I sat here, still holding on to the hope that we were working things out.

I don’t know what hurts more—the betrayal itself or the realization that I never really saw it coming. 

For months now, I’ve been clinging to the remnants of our love. 

I’ve been praying every night, asking Allah to guide us, to bring him back to me emotionally, mentally, spiritually. 

I’ve worked so hard to change, to grow, to be a better wife. I admitted my mistakes. 

I acknowledged where I fell short. 

And I tried—God knows I tried—to fix things. 

To save what we built. 

But it feels like I’ve been alone in this fight.

I’ve forgiven more than I thought I could. 

I’ve swallowed my pride so many times, trying to make sense of things he’s done. 

Even when I discovered things I never imagined I’d have to deal with—dark things, spiritual things, black magic even—I stood by him. 

I stayed. 

I loved him through it. 

Even when I didn’t recognize the man in front of me anymore, I kept praying for him. 

For us. 

For a miracle.

But now this? A dating site? A profile stating he’s single?

I’m speechless. 

Broken. 

Disappointed beyond words. 

All I ever asked for was honesty. 

If he was unhappy, why not just say it? 

Why pretend? 

Why wear the mask of a husband at home, while searching for someone else online?

Did I mean so little? Was everything we built so easy to erase?

I don’t know what to do right now. 

My heart says hold on, but my mind is screaming, “Let go.” 

The love I have for him hasn’t disappeared, but the trust—the trust is shattered. 

And how do you rebuild something from shattered pieces when the other person keeps walking away?

There’s a pain in knowing that while I was still planning a future with him, he was already entertaining a different path—one that didn’t include me. 

I wonder, was he ever truly happy? 

Or was I just a placeholder until something—or someone—better came along?

I wish I could talk to him. 

I wish I could ask, “Why? 

What changed? 

When did we lose each other?” 

But even if I did, I’m not sure he’d give me honest answers. 

Maybe he doesn't even know himself. 

Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t care anymore.

Sometimes I wonder if love is enough. 

I used to believe it was. 

I used to think that if you loved someone deeply enough, you could weather any storm. 

But now I’m starting to realize that love needs to be met halfway. 

Love alone can't carry a marriage. 

It needs effort, loyalty, respect, and communication. 

Without those, love becomes just a beautiful word with no weight.

I’m exhausted. 

Emotionally. 

Spiritually. 

Mentally. 

I’ve fought so long and so hard for this marriage. 

I’ve sacrificed, compromised, stayed silent when I wanted to scream.

And now, I just feel numb. 

Like a part of me has died. 

The part that believed we were in this together. 

The part that thought we were still trying.

What makes this harder is that I still remember the man I fell in love with. 

I still see glimpses of him sometimes—his smile, his laugh, the way he used to look at me. 

I miss that version of him. 

The version who made me feel like I was his world. 

The man who used to hold my hand in public and say, “I’m the luckiest guy alive.” 

I miss him. 

And maybe that’s what’s making it hard to walk away—because I’m not just grieving the man in front of me now, I’m mourning the loss of the man he used to be.

Ya Allah Ya Rabb, please guide me. 

Give me clarity. 

Give me peace. 

Heal my heart from the wounds that have been inflicted over and over. 

If this marriage still has a future, show me the way to save it. 

But if it’s meant to end, give me the strength to let go. 

Because I don’t want to keep breaking myself in hopes of fixing something that’s already been left behind.

I never imagined my love story would turn out like this. 

I dreamed of growing old with him, building a life together, raising children, and laughing at silly things in our old age. 

But now, all I feel is silence. 

Distance. 

Emptiness.

I don’t know what comes next. 

But I do know this—I deserve truth. 

I deserve respect. 

I deserve a love that doesn't leave me guessing, questioning, or doubting my worth.

And maybe, just maybe… it’s time to start choosing myself.