Ankahi
I realise now how often I recall conversations that ended years ago. I replay pauses, deleted texts, unsent words — trying to understand what really died and when. Trying to figure out who hurt whom first. Who owed what. Who failed harder. I keep doing autopsies on things that are already dead, hoping they’ll explain why I still ache. Truth is, what hurts isn’t just him, it’s the life I imagined where I didn’t have to be so alert all the time. Sometimes it’s not the relationship that hurts, but the silence that follows, the absence of acknowledgement, the way something meaningful is erased as if it never existed. People like to say “I would kill for you” as if violence is devotion. But devotion is quieter. It is forgiveness. It is choosing peace when ego begs for war. It is staying gentle even when walking away would be easier. On the drive back today, I pictured a future conversation — me talking casually about my husband… About how he takes care of...
