“Get Disappointed Once and For All and Live Free”
“How long is Lucy away for?”
“Until Sunday evening.”
I froze, barely believing my ears. “Lucy” was me. And my husband’s voice drifted from the living room.
Early that morning, I’d planned to leave for the next town to visit my younger sister. I was already at the station when she called, saying she was ill—fever, exhaustion.
“You don’t need to catch this,” she croaked.
I called my husband to say I wasn’t going, but he didn’t pick up. So I went home instead.
I unlocked the door, kicked off my shoes, and tiptoed toward the bathroom, meaning to change and brew some coffee. I thought he was still asleep.
But I stopped in the hallway. Voices came from the living room. The second, a woman’s, sounded familiar.
I listened. And knew.
My hands trembled with shock and anger.
It was Emily. My best friend.
“When are you going to tell her?” she asked. “How long will you drag this out?”
“Not now,” he sighed. “She’s got work stress, her dad’s in hospital… I just can’t do it yet. It’ll break her.”
“But you love me, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer. The silence stretched so long I leaned against the wall, the floor swaying beneath me.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “But I don’t want her to suffer. Lucy’s not my enemy. She’s a good person. We’ve just… grown apart.”
“And us?”
“We’re different. We fit.”
Nausea rose in my throat. I sank to the floor. Tears spilled without warning.
It was all so… casual. Calm. No drama. He wasn’t some lovesick boy—just a man who’d made up his mind.
“Come on, I’ll make coffee,” I heard him say.
“Cinnamon in mine, remember?” she chirped.
Then it hit me—not like a thought, but a raw, undeniable truth. They had their own world now, one I wasn’t part of.
I stood up. Slipped into the bedroom. Shut the door—too loudly, because the voices stopped.
“Lucy?” A knock, then my husband’s voice. “You’re back?”
Silence. He stepped in. Emily followed, eyes wide, guilty. Only a flicker.
“You—” she started.
“Didn’t leave,” I cut in. “Sister’s sick. Surprise, right?”
He paled, tongue-tied.
But me? Clarity washed over me. Weird, how fury melted into icy calm.
I grabbed my travel bag. Started packing—mechanically. Socks, a jumper, jeans. My hands shook, but I didn’t stop.
“Lucy, wait—” He moved closer. “It’s not what you think.”
“We were just talking,” Emily squeaked.
I laughed—bitter, sharp.
“Oh? So the lipstick on his collar’s from deep conversation?”
She flushed, eyes darting. He stared at the floor, shoulders slumped like a scolded schoolboy.
Then I changed my mind.
“Get out. Both of you. Now.”
I expected him to beg. Explain. Say *something*.
He just nodded. Blank. Empty. No fight left.
Three minutes later, the door slammed.
Alone, I sat on the bed and cried—properly, loudly. Not the quiet, muffled sobs I’d mastered over the years.
***
A year passed.
Divorce papers signed. New job. Emily vanished like smoke.
He tried reaching out—messages, calls. I ignored them.
Eventually, he disappeared too.
No idea if they’re together. Don’t care.
At first, I was terrified—of being alone, of crumbling. Convinced happiness had left for good.
Turns out? The opposite.
I relearned myself. Breathed deeper. Smiled more.
Here’s the truth: I’d grown used to unhappiness. Believed it was all life offered. That I’d settled, and it was my fault.
Then—*bang*.
Turns out, you *can* start over.
Pain fades.
Betrayal isn’t the end—it’s a *pause*. Before the next chapter, where you’re not “good” (read: convenient) but *happy*.
So no regrets. Just living. Just joy.
If it happens to you? Don’t despair.
Real wisdom? Seeing people for who they *are*, not who you wished they’d be.
Set your boundaries. Goodness isn’t suffering in silence.
Get disappointed. Then live free.
No theatrics. Just distance, self-respect, quiet observation, and a clear head.
*That’s* beauty.
I fought for your soul—
Your laugh, your voice.
But the soul was rusted,
Never mine to keep.
Love lied: “I’ll scrub the tarnish,
Weather every storm.”
Oh, the fires we burned!
Yet only *I* caught flame.
The rust stayed.
The soul stayed gone.
