When this thing will be over?

Ya Allah, Ya Rabb…

When will this darkness finally lift from our lives?

When will this relentless cycle of black magic, this unseen torment, come to an end?

It feels like a never-ending ring of shadows— a prison forged by satan’s own hand, trapping us in its cruel grip, dragging our marriage through a storm that refuses to calm.

What kind of marriage is this that we now live?

What kind of life do we share when the words of hope, dreams, and future plans barely find their way between us?

When even speaking about our children—our blessings and our hope—
feels like an impossible task, swallowed by silence and distance?

Geez...

All of this pain, all of this heartbreak, caused by one impulsive, careless act— one moment that shattered everything we built together.

Four months have slipped away from us, wasted in trying to mend broken pieces, pretending that nothing ever happened, as if no wounds were left to heal.

I know I am no perfect wife.

I have faltered, neglected his needs, and I carry the weight of my mistakes. 

I am guilty—yes, guilty— for the errors I made in the past, for every moment I fell short.

But now, despite everything, I am ready to change.

Step by step,

I am becoming the wife he once dreamed of— the woman who can stand beside him as an equal the woman who deserves to share his life.

Even knowing all the darkness he faced— the black magic, the betrayal, the hidden wounds—from the depths of my heart, I forgive.

I forgive every shadow that touched us, every hurt that tried to tear us apart.

And I still want to be his wife, to spend the rest of my days by his side,
to rebuild our shattered trust, brick by brick.

But a question haunts me like a ghost— what did I do wrong?

What mistake did I make to her— the woman who chose to break our home, to turn these last four months into a living hell for me?

So many questions crowd my mind, so many unsaid words and silent screams.

I want to confront her, to ask her why—why she did this, why she tore apart my life, why she shattered my heart.

Yet, after all that’s happened, I’m unsure if asking will bring peace or more pain.

Maybe some questions are better left unanswered, some wounds better left to heal in quiet prayer.

Ya Allah, Ya Rabb, please guide me through this darkness.

Give me strength to forgive, courage to move forward, and wisdom to know what is right for my heart and soul.

Grant me the patience to rebuild, and the faith that love, true love, can rise even from the ashes of despair.

i hate you

Yeah, you read that right.

You know exactly who I’m talking about. 

If you’re reading this and you think I’m referring to someone else, you’re wrong—this is about you. 

It’s about us.

This morning, I posted something hopeful, something I wanted to believe—that no matter what happened in the last few months, my love for you would remain unchanged. 

But now, I realize love alone isn’t enough when hearts grow distant and words become weapons.

I’m only human, just like you. 

I have a heart that beats with hope, a soul that longs for connection, and feelings that can be bruised by the harshest truths.

It’s not just you who can feel hurt when cold words land sharp and heavy right where it matters most.

I look at you and wonder, who are you now? 

The man I married seems to be slipping away, replaced by someone I don’t recognize anymore. 

The warmth that once filled your eyes now feels like a distant flicker, a fading echo of what used to be.

Do you still hold our promises sacred? 

The vows we whispered on that day, promising to stand by each other no matter what? 

Or have those words become nothing more than shadows, fading in the corners of your mind?

Do you still see me as your wife, your partner, the one who dreamed with you and fought for us? 

Or am I just a name on a paper, a role you feel obligated to play but no longer truly believe in?

Marriage, much like friendship, is a dance.

It takes two willing souls moving in harmony—two hearts listening, two hands reaching, and two spirits committed to growing together. 

It is a delicate balance, a shared rhythm that neither can create alone.

But now, I find myself dancing this dance alone, stepping carefully on a floor that feels cold and unfamiliar. 

I reach for you, but your hands are nowhere to be found. 

I speak to you, but my words fall like whispers into a vast, empty room.

Is our marriage still here, or has it become a façade? 

A mask worn for the world to see, a status bound to a license and a name? 

I fear that what once was love is now just routine, a hollow shell of what we dreamed it would be.

And yet, even in this silence and this distance, a part of me still hopes. 

I hope that somewhere inside, you remember why we started this journey together. 

I hope that beneath the walls and the coldness, there is still a spark that can be reignited.

Because I am not ready to give up—not yet. 

I want to believe that we can find our way back, that the promises we made were not in vain. 

But I can’t do it alone.

If you still care, if you still love me, then show me. 

Speak to me. 

Dance with me.

Because right now, I’m standing here, waiting for you to come back to me.

Still love him anyways

Even though the last few months have felt like a never-ending nightmare—if I’m not mistaken, it started around September 2014—something in him changed. 

Drastically.

Suddenly, he became someone I could barely recognize. 

Someone cold, distant, unfamiliar. 

The man I once knew, the one I once laughed with, cried with, dreamed with—felt like he disappeared right before my eyes. 

And in his place was someone who made my life feel like a slow, burning heartache.

Still… despite all of that…

My feelings for him remain the same.

My love for him hasn’t changed, not even a little.

No matter what happened. 

No matter how painful it’s been. 

No matter how many tears I’ve cried alone in silence. 

Deep down, I still love him with every part of me. 

And maybe that’s what hurts the most—loving someone who no longer feels like they love you back.

We made a sacred commitment in front of our families, our friends… and most importantly, in front of Allah SWT. 

We promised to walk through life together.

Through ease and difficulty. 

Through joy and pain. 

I held on to that vow with everything I had.

But lately, it’s been so hard.

The man he is now feels so different from the one I married. 

He doesn’t speak to me the same way. 

He doesn’t look at me the same way. 

It’s like the warmth, the connection, the soul of our relationship has vanished. 

And I’ve tried—I really have. 

I’ve tried to understand.

I’ve tried to be patient. 

I’ve tried to stay strong even when it felt impossible.

And even when anger fills my chest—even when I say I hate him in moments of frustration—I know deep in my heart that my love for him is bigger than any of that.

Because no matter how much pain he has caused me, I still choose him.

Over and over again. 

There’s no one else I want to share this life with. 

He is the only one I’ve ever imagined growing old with. 

Building a future. 

Starting a family. 

Holding hands through the storms of life.

But now… I can only pray.

Ya Allah, Ya Rabb…

Please bring my husband back to me. 

Not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. 

Bring back the man I used to know—the man who once loved me without hesitation.

Ya Allah, Ya Rabb…

Please heal me.

Whatever has taken root in his heart—be it pain, confusion, temptation, or darkness—please remove it. 

Replace it with peace, clarity, and love.

And if there’s still hope for us, 

Ya Allah… 

please show me. 

Give me a sign. 

Give me the strength to keep going.

And if there isn’t… 

then please give me the courage to let go with grace.

But for now… 

all I ask is this:

Please bring him back to my heart.

Amin, Ya Rabbal ‘Alamin.

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.

Progress about him

Alhamdulillah…

Abang’s condition is slowly but surely improving, and for that, I’m endlessly grateful to Allah SWT.

There was a time not long ago when he seemed completely detached from me. 

He didn’t care what I was doing, where I was going, who I was spending time with, or even who I was speaking to on the phone. 

I felt invisible—as though my presence and my actions didn’t matter anymore. 

It was painful, especially coming from someone I had vowed to spend the rest of my life with. 

It was as if I was living with a stranger wearing my husband’s face.

During those difficult days, I kept praying. 

I poured my heart out to Allah, asking Him to return my husband to me—not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. 

I asked Him to soften Abang’s heart and to open his eyes to the love and commitment that still existed between us. 

Even when I felt hopeless, I held onto faith, believing that Allah’s mercy could heal even the deepest wounds.

And slowly… things started to change.

Now, Abang is beginning to show signs of the man I used to know—the man who once cared deeply about me and everything that happened in my life. 

He’s starting to take notice again. 

He asks questions about where I’m going. 

He wants to know who I’m meeting. 

He even pays attention to the conversations I have on the phone. 

At first, I wasn’t sure how to react—it had been so long since he showed any real interest. 

But now, every question he asks, every glance of concern, feels like a piece of him returning home.

It’s not just about him checking in on me. 

It’s about connection. 

It’s about the fact that he cares enough to be involved again, to be curious about my day, to want to be present in my world. 

These small gestures may not seem like much to others, but to me, they mean everything. 

They are signs of healing. 

Signs of love rekindled. 

Signs that Allah is answering my prayers.

I know we still have a long journey ahead. 

Healing a relationship doesn’t happen overnight. 

Trust, communication, and emotional connection take time to rebuild. But seeing these little changes gives me hope. 

It reminds me that nothing is impossible when you rely on Allah and continue to do your part with sincerity and patience.

Alhamdulillah, all praise be to Allah SWT. 

Without His help, none of this would be possible. 

I believe with all my heart that He is guiding us back to each other, one step at a time.

So I will continue to pray, continue to have faith, and continue to work on becoming the best version of myself—for Abang, for our marriage, and for the sake of Allah.

Ikhlas dan sabar

Ikhlas & Sabar...

These two words—ikhlas (sincerity) and sabar (patience)—are the most important foundations I need to hold onto right now in dealing with Abang’s condition. 

They are not just words, but deep spiritual commitments that require strength, faith, and trust in Allah SWT.

After hearing and reflecting on advice from many people—family, friends, and even strangers who care—I’ve come to realize that not all advice should be taken to heart. 

From now on, I choose to only absorb the positive advice. 

The kind that reminds me to be strong, to hold on to hope, and to lean closer to Allah. 

The rest, I’ll leave behind.

Ikhlas means accepting everything with an open heart. 

It means embracing each moment in this journey, no matter how small or slow the progress may be. 

Whether Abang shows tiny signs of improvement or none at all, I must still continue to walk this path sincerely and wholeheartedly. 

Ikhlas also means trusting the outcome—whatever it may be. 

Whether Abang recovers fully or only partially, whether he returns to being the man I knew or someone slightly different, I must learn to accept it as part of Allah’s divine plan.

Sabar, on the other hand, means I must stay grounded. 

It means believing that Allah has a purpose behind every trial. 

That every tear, every frustration, every sleepless night is not in vain.

Something beautiful is waiting at the end of this struggle. 

Maybe it’s healing, maybe it’s strength, or maybe it’s a version of myself I’ve never known before—more resilient, more faithful, more loving.

Sabar also reminds me that change is never instant. 

Just like Rome wasn’t built in a day, healing, growth, and transformation all require time. 

There will be good days and bad ones. 

There will be moments when I feel like giving up. 

But that’s when I need to remind myself: patience is not just about waiting—it’s about how I act while I’m waiting. 

It’s about the mindset, the prayers, the gratitude even in hardship.

These two—ikhlas and sabar—are the keys. 

The keys to helping me cope with Abang’s condition. 

The keys to keeping my sanity and peace of heart in check. 

The keys to holding this marriage together with dignity and grace.

And when the time comes—when Abang is back to his old self again—I must also remember this: I will not bring up this painful chapter again. 

It won’t be used against him. 

It won’t be a scar I keep pointing at. 

It will be a test that we survived. 

A season that passed. 

A wound that healed. 

And for that, I will be forever grateful to Allah.

Powerless

---

Each day passes by, and he's still not the man I used to know…

I miss him so much.

I miss his smile, his warmth, his jokes—everything that used to make my world feel safe and complete.

And right now, more than anything, I need him. 

I need him—not just his presence, but the man he truly is, the one I fell in love with, the one I chose to spend the rest of my life with.

I never thought I’d be facing something like this again.

The first time I experienced something like this, it was with my father.

It was painful, confusing, and honestly, traumatizing.

That period left a scar on my heart that never really faded.

And now here I am, years later, walking down a path that feels eerily familiar—but this time, it's with my husband.

It hurts in ways I can’t fully describe.

To wake up each day next to someone who feels emotionally distant… 

someone who looks the same, but somehow isn't.

Someone who used to know the very rhythm of my soul, but now feels like a stranger at times.

I try to stay strong, but the truth is… I feel so powerless.

Fragile.

Weak.

Like I’m holding on to pieces of something that used to be whole.

Sometimes I wonder if he knows how much this is affecting me.

How much I ache just to feel close to him again.

To laugh together like we used to.

To talk for hours without feeling like there’s a wall between us.

To simply be in each other’s presence and feel whole.

I miss him with every fiber of my being.

And even though he's right here, living and breathing, there's this emptiness that grows with every passing day.

I keep praying.

I keep hoping.

I keep reminding myself that love is not just about the good times, but about holding on when everything feels like it's falling apart.

I don’t know how long this phase will last.

I don’t even know if he realizes the depth of the pain I’m carrying silently.

But I know one thing—despite the exhaustion, the tears, and the loneliness, I still choose him.

I just want him back.

The real him.

The version of him that held my hand not just out of habit, but out of love.

The one who saw me even when I didn’t say a word.

Ya Allah… I really, really need him.

Please bring him back to me.

Clueless

Ya Allah, Ya Rabb...

Right now, I feel completely lost and overwhelmed by Abang’s condition.

I truly have no idea what to do anymore.

I feel like I’ve tried everything I possibly can, but nothing seems to bring clarity or peace.

Each day feels like I’m walking through fog—unsure, uncertain, and exhausted.

I’ve been holding on for so long, waiting for the progress that was promised.

Yes, there is progress, I can see that. 

But it’s so slow… painfully slow.

Sometimes it feels like we take one small step forward, only to stumble two steps back.

I keep telling myself to be patient, to keep going, to keep praying.

But there are moments—quiet moments, like now—where I just feel so drained.

Tired of hoping without seeing the results.

Tired of trying to stay strong while silently breaking inside.

I don’t know how much longer I can hold on in this kind of situation.

I don’t know how much longer I can carry all of this weight on my shoulders.

It’s heavy.

It’s lonely.

It’s painful.

I miss the man he used to be.

I miss feeling like we were in this life together—as partners, as soulmates.

Now it feels like I’m standing in this battle alone, fighting for something that sometimes doesn’t feel like it’s even there anymore.

And yet, I can’t seem to let go.

Because deep down, I still believe.

I still believe in who he is.

I still believe in the vows we made.

And I still believe that Allah’s plan, no matter how difficult it is to understand right now, is always the best.

So, Ya Allah, Ya Rabb…

I come to You with nothing but honesty, pain, and a heart that is barely holding on.

Please, grant me strength when I feel weak.

Please, guide me when I feel lost.

Please, bring light to this darkness and hope to this heaviness.

Please, show me the way forward, whatever that may be.

If there is still a future for us, please heal him.

Please return him to the man he once was—the man I love, the man I miss.

And if not, please give me the courage to accept what is best, even if it breaks my heart.

I know You hear every unspoken cry.

I know You see every tear I’ve wiped away in silence.

Ya Allah, Ya Rabb…

Please, give me the best solution for all of this.

The one that aligns with Your wisdom, with Your mercy, and with what is truly best for both of us.

Aamiin.

Don't know what to do

Seriously, I really don’t know what else to do about Abang’s condition.

I’ve tried almost every solution that people have suggested to me. 

I’ve decided to try everything except the solutions from Jenderal Bedul and Komjen, of course.

The first advice came from Miss Tuan Putri. 

She insisted that I see someone who might help with the problems I’m dealing with right now. 

I remember finishing a small project, and then we went straight to that place. 

Unfortunately, we arrived a bit too late because it was their day off. 

No matter what we said, they wouldn’t see us. 

But when I finally had another chance to go, I went back there with her.

What happened there really shocked me. 

At first, I was very skeptical about all of this. 

I do believe that magic and supernatural things exist, but never in my wildest dreams did I think I would actually experience it myself.

Long story short, after listening to everything they told me that day, I felt deeply disappointed in Abang. 

They told me I needed to come back with some items like: face powder, red delima lipstick, pink lipstick, and an eyebrow pencil.

After hearing all their explanations, I thought about everything and finally told her I wouldn’t come back again. 

That was it.

The second advice came from Jin Kurakura.

After gathering the courage to share everything with him—hoping he wouldn’t laugh at my situation—he recommended someone who had helped him with a similar case, though a different subject.

That person gave me detailed instructions on what I should do. 

Even though it all felt illogical, I followed the steps because all I wanted was for my husband to come back, to become the man I used to know.

Even the slightest progress truly brightened my day. 

It really brought back my smile, even if just a little.

The third advice came from Miss Experience. 

Like everyone else, she insisted I go with her to meet an expert who specialized in situations like mine.

There, I met someone who was truly knowledgeable about my condition.

Like the other two places I visited, I did everything they suggested. 

And even the smallest progress with him made my day. It really did.

Ya Allah, Ya Rabb,

Please heal my husband from all the evil magic that is currently affecting him.

Please bring back the man I once knew.

I am in desperate need of him.

Worst Nightmare comes alive

Yes, you read that right.

A couple of months ago, I lived through what felt like my worst nightmare coming to life.

I still remember every detail clearly—because it was a nightmare turned real.

Even now, I can’t fully believe that all of this actually happened to me and to him.

All I ever wanted was a simple, peaceful married life—with a husband who could also be my best friend, my partner, and the one I’d grow old with.

But instead, I’m here… 

still trying to process the fact that he was possessed by black magic. 

And even harder to accept—he was the one who initiated it in the first place.

It breaks my heart. I never imagined our story would take such a dark turn.

All I want is for things to go back to normal.

I want my life back.

I want my husband back—the one I used to know and love deeply.

Ya Allah, Ya Rabb...

Please grant me this one wish.

Please return him to me.

Please bring back our happiness.

Worst

How Did We End Up Like This?

I keep asking myself that question over and over again — 

how did we end up like this?

From being that couple who couldn’t stop smiling at each other, holding hands even when no one was looking, sharing secrets and silly inside jokes…

To becoming strangers.

Two people living under the same roof, yet feeling a world apart.

What happened to us?

Where did things start to fall apart?

Was it something I said? Was it something I didn’t say?

Did life get too heavy, too complicated?

Or did we just… stop trying?

I remember those early days when we were so close, so connected.

You looked at me like I was the only person in the world.

You made promises with such sincerity.

“I will love you. I will stand by you. Until death do us part.”

Those words meant everything to me. I believed in them. I believed in you.

But now… I don’t recognize us.

I don’t recognize you.

And sometimes… I don’t even recognize myself.

We barely talk. We avoid each other’s eyes.

We walk past each other like we’re invisible.

What happened?

What happened to the late-night talks?

The playful teasing?

The way you used to hold my hand when I felt anxious?

The way you used to say “I’m here for you” without me having to ask?

Now, it’s just silence. Awkward. Cold.

Like two ghosts haunted by what we used to be.

And the worst part is—we’re pretending.

Pretending like nothing’s wrong.

Pretending like this distance is normal.

Pretending like the love didn’t slowly, painfully fade into indifference.

How did it get this far?

Was it the stress?

The pressure of everyday life?

Or was it something deeper that we didn’t dare to face?

Sometimes, I lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you’re doing the same.

Do you miss us too?

Do you remember who we used to be?

Because I do.

I remember it all.

And it hurts.

I miss you.

I miss me when I was with you.

I miss the version of us that believed love was enough to conquer anything.

But now I’m not so sure.

It breaks my heart to think that the person I thought I’d grow old with, is now just… someone I pass by in silence.

So I’m asking again, not to blame, but just to understand—

How did we end up like this?

And if there’s still even a flicker of what we used to be…
I pray we find our way back.

Unbearable pain

Really don't know how much time to hold on.  

Really don't know if its still there or it's already gone and wash away.

I've tried every kind of possible solution to these whole problem but it's seems nothing really works.

I don't know what should i done right now or whats shouldn't be done right now.

I just felt alone in dark with nobody else there with me.

Ya Allah Ya Rabb....

I really really really need my husband.

I really really really miss my husband a lot.

I feel powerless, hopeless, weak, fragile without him....

Ya Allah Ya Rabb.....

I know that Allah swt would never give ujian dan cobaan melebihi kemampuan umatNya....

I just don't know how much longer i could handle this unbearable pain and sorrow...

I know that I've done so many things in the past that might hurt him. I'll try the best that i could do to fix that....

Ya Allah i just want my husband back

Ya Allah please give us the best solution for all this mess...

I don't know how much longer i could handle unbearable pain...