This is not just my heartbreak — it’s a voice for every woman who still believes in love.”

it’s a voice for every woman who still believes in love.

They came with promises of forever, but left with my pieces. Now I wait — not for love, but for someone who’ll stay.

I never thought I’d fall in love.

I was the kind of girl who read books, not people. Who found comfort in silence, not in someone’s arms. But life, as it always does, had other plans.

I was 19. Innocent, focused, and away from home for college. That’s when he entered my world. He was calm, well-mannered, and strangely magnetic. I didn’t know what he saw in me, but he followed me with quiet intensity until one day, he confessed his feelings.

I said no — again and again. But love doesn’t always ask permission. Sometimes, it just takes over. And so, I gave in.

Our relationship was sweet, gentle, and full of dreams. We imagined a future together, the kind that ends at the altar and continues into forever. But reality had something else planned.

By his third year of college, everything changed. We sat in the same class, but he looked through me, as if I was invisible. His eyes used to light up around me. Now, they barely blinked.

My nights turned into oceans of tears. I woke up every morning, wiped away the evidence, and forced myself to live. College in the morning. Office in the afternoon. A storm inside me. A smile on my face.

I stopped trusting. I stopped hoping. My family brought up marriage many times. I avoided it — not because I didn’t want it, but because I no longer believed anyone could truly stay.

Years passed. COVID came. The world paused. But my heart kept aching.

Then came someone new — someone I respected deeply. He proposed marriage. And for the first time, I dared to think: maybe this is my second chance.

We talked every day, every night. His “Good Morning, my love” messages became my sunlight. I began smiling again. I began believing again.

Until… I didn’t.

When it came time to finalize the wedding, he backed away. And then, the words that shattered me:

“If I marry you, someone in my family will die. A priest told us. It’s fate.”

My soul shattered. My breath paused. My heart — it didn’t just break; it disappeared.

I asked myself questions I never thought I’d ask:

“Am I cursed?”

“Is my love meant to end in silence?”

“Why was I born?”

I fell into darkness — into depression. I tried to die. But even death didn’t want me. That was the cruelest joke of all.

And yet… I lived. Somehow, I did.

I began again. Slowly. I started doing the things I loved. I tried to feel human again. I reminded myself — I used to be the girl who dreamed of her wedding day. Of wearing red. Of holding someone’s hand. Of starting a family.

Now, I’m 33. And still alone.

I have love to give. I want a friend. I want happiness. But all I meet are people who send sweet texts at night and disappear by morning.

Why have I never found someone who stays?

Even now, I still hope. That maybe one day, someone will hold my hand — from the wedding altar to the grave.

But for now, I just whisper to myself:

“Every time I love, I break. The wedding never comes, but the tears always do.”

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This isn’t just my story — it’s the silent voice of every soul who still believes in love, despite the pain it brings.