“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know I hurt you. I just didn’t want to hide the truth.
I’ll try to move on, to build a life with you.”
I looked at him, this man I loved, and saw it clearly: in his eyes still lived someone else’s shadow.
The Morning After
I didn’t cry.
I just lay there, waiting for the first light to spill through the curtains and touch the wilted petals on the floor.
Daniel was still sitting quietly when I stood up.
My voice was calm, almost gentle.
“Daniel, I don’t blame you for your past,” I said.
“But I can’t live where another person’s memory still exists. I can’t keep hoping for a love that isn’t fully mine.”
He stayed silent, his expression heavy with regret—but there was hesitation too.
And that hesitation was the answer.
Choosing Myself
I slipped the wedding ring from my finger and placed it in his hand.
“Maybe I was wrong,” I whispered.
“I thought you were my safe place. But even on our first night, you chose to walk away.
So I think this is where it ends.”
I packed my things and left the hotel quietly.
Behind me were flowers, candles, and the man who was not ready to love completely.
Outside, the city was already awake.
I walked through the bright New York morning, still in my white dress, my tears drying in the wind.
People turned to look, but I didn’t feel embarrassed—only free.
Our wedding lasted one day.
But that day taught me something precious:
Sometimes, ending an illusion is the first step toward finding something real.
