The hardest thing I’ve ever done

“Do you have something to say?” I asked.
No response. She was packing her things.
“Look, I still love you. That’s never going to–”
“Stop it!” She bolted upright, her eyes were red. She wanted to cry, but refused to let me see the pain I was causing her.  “I don’t want to hear that from you!”
“But it’s true. I care about you.” It hurt me too. I really did love her, which is why this was so hard for both of us. I had held on too long, tried to fight it, but it wasn’t right — i couldn’t lie to her or myself any longer.  It was causing us both too much pain.
She continued packing her things; it’s amazing how much stuff collects over time. I hadn’t even realized the amount of space she filled in my room.
We were civil–this time. We had broken up a few times in the past and it was always dramatic, with screaming and crying and hitting; this time it was different, calm, easy, like a cancer that had been eating away at our relationship since the beginning. We tried to cure it, to subdue it, but it came back; every time, it came back.
Now, we were married. We had done it on a whim. I thought I was helping her, and she thought i loved her–not that i didn’t, just that I didn’t love her that way. We had good times, but like everything else in my life, we were destined to fail.

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