I didn't text her.I didn't call.After everything I had seen, the next move wasn't mine to make.So I waited.
The answer came the next day.
"You found out, didn't you, Leandro?"
I felt my chest tighten as I typed back:
"Yes. I did."
There was no apology in her response.No regret.No attempt to deny it.
Only cold rationalization.
"I was going to break up with you anyway.You forgot about our marriage and pushed me aside.I found someone better for me… someone who gives me affection and attention."
Her words sliced through me.No hesitation.No mercy.
I forced myself to answer:
"I always did everything for you.I gave you everything I could.You met me while I was building a life for us."
She replied as if she was doing me a favor:
"Maybe this is better for you.You deserve a better woman than me."
There it was.A final, brittle excuse trying to soften the blow of a knife already in my chest.
I swallowed everything I wanted to say, everything I felt, and typed:
"Alright. Be happy."
And she ended eight years of story with:
"You too."
That was it.
No tears.No shouting.No closure.Just a simple "You too" glowing on a phone screen —cold, detached, unforgettable.
After that message, I collapsed into a darkness I wasn't prepared for.
The following days were a blur of numbness.I could barely eat.Barely sleep.Barely think.
A month passed, and the idea of being with someone else felt impossible.My heart wasn't just broken — it was hollow.
Meanwhile, her life moved forward effortlessly.
She changed her profile pictures on social media.Posted smiling photos with him.Cute captions.Inside jokes.
Each post felt like a new humiliation,a fresh reminder of how easy it had been for her to replace me.I even had to lie to some people about what happened —the shame was too heavy.
It destroyed me.
But time, stubborn and quiet, began doing its work.
One day, I woke up and felt the pain dulling slightly.Not gone… but manageable.Another day passed, and then another.Life slowly pulled me forward, inch by inch.
Eventually, we stood in front of each other one last time —not as lovers, not as enemies,but as two people ready to sign away the life they once built.
A few signatures on a divorce document.Cold ink on cold paper.
And with that,the longest chapter of my lifewas officially closed.