It's a cruel encore, this recurring heartbreak.
Each time, the fragile hope blossoms.
A connection so deep, a comfort that settles like a long-lost home.
You laid your foundations, brick by vulnerable brick, convinced this was the haven, the soul to navigate life's storms.
You offered compromise, a willing hand in building something real.
For the first time since the wreckage of your marriage five years past, a genuine smile touched your lips, a lightness danced in your steps.
You craved his world, eagerly anticipating the tangible reality of his presence, the unfolding of a shared future.
But the universe, it seems, delights in its twisted punchlines.
Once again, the rug is yanked.
The promised world, the whispered "us," dissolves into the bitter taste of "not the one."
A single divergence of view, and the warmth you knew turns glacial.
"I wish you the very best and good luck" – a curt dismissal that shatters the carefully constructed illusion.
Life's humor is indeed dark, a cruel jest played when happiness dares to peek through the clouds.
That familiar unease, the premonition of impending shadow, solidifies into a stark reality.
Why paint such vibrant futures only to reveal a canvas blank of intention?
Why the grand pronouncements if honesty was a stranger to his tongue?
He demanded frankness, yet offered a façade.
You, with your open hand and truthful heart, laid bare your desires from the start, refusing the games of veiled intentions.
Now, a torrent of "why"s crashes through your mind.
The familiar sting of being unwanted, the gnawing question of your own worthiness.
How could those fervent affections evaporate at the first sign of friction?
Were they ever real, or simply masterful performance?
He offered galaxies, yet retreated at the slightest earthly disagreement.
Where did the warmth vanish?
How does genuine feeling curdle so quickly into indifference?
No call to understand your perspective.
No attempt to soothe your fears.
No desperate search during your silence.
No plea to reconsider the bond you thought you shared.
Five months, a virtual intimacy – perhaps a fragile foundation.
Yet your emotions were real, your sincerity unwavering.
But in the end, his swift departure speaks volumes, a chilling testament to his true measure.
You have weathered storms before, navigated your own personal hell.
This too, will pass.
But the lesson echoes: tread softly where dreams take root.
Bismillah. You will rise again.
