Here’s Why I Stayed Silent, Even When I Knew You Were Cheating On Me

There’s so much I wanted to tell you, but I knew I wasn’t ready to hear what you’d have to say. I was afraid you’d tell me that it’s over, that you’d lost a hold of the last string that tied us up. I knew I wanted to hear it from you, but instead I chose to deny myself to take courage and fix our dying relationship. The heavens know how much I prayed to give me back the person I love, the person I met a couple years back, the person who told me that we’d stay and keep each other every day leading to the days of forever. I lost count how much I silently teared up, wishing all was but a dream and that one day I’d wake up with you back in my arms. But I failed. I left and chose to walk away because it’s the only thing I had the courage to do.

I knew all about your secret conversations and the times you spent together. I knew how you found comfort in him and it pained me to accept that you had to look beyond our relationship to be consoled. For months, I knew what was happening. No amount of words can ever explain how much pain I had to go through whenever you’d chat with him while I sat next to you or pretended to be asleep. I can’t even think of how I endured faking a smile, of how many times I had to hold back my tears whenever you’d meet with him. I had to figure out how to play dumb about it and every day felt like I was just consciously burning myself of self-pity and stupidity. But there’s more to my silence, and I want you to know why I chose not to tell you about it the first time I found out.

I didn’t want to tell you that I knew about it because I was hoping you’d come to your senses and stop whatever you were doing, I was hoping that you’d realize that the years we spent together didn’t equate to some silly flirting or infatuation. I was hoping you’d stop in a few days, or weeks, or even after a month, but you didn’t. Every day I followed how you grew feelings for him, how you missed him, and how you looked forward to talking and spending time with him. Every day I watched you eat, work, sleep, and live normally, all while I was slowly dying in silence. Every day, I wished you’d stop and you’d try to piece back what we’d lost, but all I got was distance and apathy.

I waited for you to choose us, for you to choose our future and the many things we planned. I waited for you to remember how much we wanted this relationship, for you to remember how far we’d gone and the many struggles we’d won over. I waited for you to think of me and the moments we’d spent and shared together. I waited for you to look back to where we started, how we had nothing but still chose to stick together—because we had dreams. I waited for you. And while I was patiently willing to hold up, you were slowly drifting away.

You know how much I love you, but I can’t stay, because while there’s that concept of waiting, there’s also that idea of being too late. It hurts to hope, but it hurts more to look forward to an empty promise, to a splintered commitment. It hurts more to fight for us when there’s not even anything to fight for anymore. I walked away, not because I didn’t love you anymore, but because part of me died when you cheated, and it left a painful scar I knew I’d have to live with for the rest of life. As much as I wanted to remember you with fond memories, all I can think of is how you allowed us to fall to bits, how you didn’t even save me from dying, how you chose your space over my desperation. I love you and I am sorry I left. I am sorry.