Karma Always Returns To A Broken Loving Heart

Dear Tina,

I often wonder why I still address you as "dear" after everything that transpired between us. When you finally left, one of my sisters remarked, “Given how this woman has treated you, I’m sure you’ll never view women the same way again.” She was right. For a long time after the divorce, I perceived every woman who approached me as a threat. I couldn’t trust their words, no matter how genuine they seemed. I couldn’t trust their actions, no matter how innocent they appeared. In my mind, there was something inherently dangerous about women, and I felt they shouldn’t be allowed to roam freely.

It’s been three years, yet the pain feels as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

Everything about you was right. Your speech and movements were graceful. The way you said “please” before making a request suggested you were raised to be courteous. Although we were just dating, you treated me as if we were married. You cared about our present and envisioned a better future together. What more could I have wanted in a partner? So when the time came to marry, we didn’t hesitate. Our hearts had already made the decision, and our minds were committed to our future together.

For the first two years of our marriage, everything was fine. We had jobs we appreciated, a place we could call home, and a wonderful companionship. The only thing left was to have a child. At one point, you expressed concern that it wasn’t happening. I was worried too, but I couldn’t show it. I needed to support you and encourage you not to lose hope. Thankfully, you became pregnant the following year. Three months later, you told me you had miscarried. That’s when everything began to change.

You started blaming everyone around you. You called my mother a witch, claiming she was responsible for your inability to conceive. Everyone in my family became a target for your anger. You were mistaken, but you were my wife two becoming one so I stood by you, even at the expense of my family. What did I receive in return? Disrespect, insubordination, and a blatant assault on my emotions. You would leave for work and return whenever you pleased, sometimes as late as midnight. You refused to cook or fulfill any of your duties as a wife. I tried to convince myself it was just a phase that would pass. Days turned into weeks, and you remained unchanged. Everyone I spoke to suggested you were suffering from depression and that we should seek help. No matter how hard I tried, you wouldn’t allow us to see anyone. “I’m fine!” you shouted at me. I eventually stopped trying.

Then one night, you came home very late, prompting me to ask why a married woman would return at such an hour and turn off her phone while out. You looked me in the eye and said, “I’m tired of this thing you call marriage. I want a divorce.” I stood there, stunned, watching your breath to see if you were serious, but you seemed fine. I asked, “What’s come over you?” You replied, “Your family has cursed me. They’ve blocked my womb. I need to leave this marriage before they kill me.”

In all the three years we were married, I can’t recall you ever having a disagreement with anyone in my family. No one insulted you or did anything to warrant such hatred. So I asked, “What did my mom do to you? What does my family have to do with this? We have issues; let’s work through them instead of blaming others.” You exploded and walked away from me. That hurt deeply. I went to bed that night hoping you would wake up with a clearer mind. The next morning, you still insisted on a divorce. To me, it was a phase we could overcome, but to you, it was the end of love. You informed your family of your decision, and they came to break the news to mine without hearing my side of the story. It felt like a scene from a horror movie when your family returned the schnapps to mine.

We dated for two years and were married for three. None of those years seemed to matter. Everything fell apart because of one miscarriage. I couldn’t comprehend it. You walked away from our marriage as if it held no significance for you.

If there’s a time for heartbreak, there’s also a time to move on. It took me a while, but I slowly began to heal. Yet, news of you kept reaching me, even when I wasn’t seeking it. I heard when you resigned from your job. I heard when you moved back in with your parents. I heard when you started going out again. Everything you did seemed to come to me like a news bulletin. Then one day, just over a year after our divorce, I learned you had remarried. Wow, love seems to come easily for some, but who was that man?

That’s when I received the shock of my life. You married Sampson? The same guy you helped go abroad, who left you as soon as he got there? Something didn’t add up, so I began searching for the missing pieces of the story. Life is like that it’s hard to find all the pieces in one place, so you search in different directions until you find something that fits. I started talking to our mutual friends who knew about Sampson. Most of them wouldn’t speak to me. They said, “Stop following her in the shadows. The marriage didn’t work; let her enjoy her life.”

But here’s the issue…

If you married Sampson, he might have played a role in our divorce. Your marrying him just a year after our separation suggested he had been lurking in the shadows even while we were together. This couldn’t have started only after our divorce. So I kept digging until I found someone who revealed the truth. You didn’t have a miscarriage; you aborted our baby because Sampson promised he would return for you. No wonder everything changed after the supposed miscarriage. You wanted a quick exit to prepare for your new life with Sampson. You didn’t want our child; you wanted a fresh start with someone who abandoned you when you needed him most.

A part of me died when I heard this from that friend. I thought I had moved on, but that day, I felt the familiar cracking of my heart, and the pain returned. I regretted seeking the truth. What was I thinking? But a man must do what a man must do, so I bore the pain with dignity, hiding my hurt from the world. If someone asked why I was hurting, I couldn’t tell them the truth, so I walked around with a smile while my heart bled.

It’s been three years since you married Sampson. From my perspective, you two will likely stay married longer than we did, but let me ask you this: are you happy? Are you content that he left after the marriage and hasn’t returned? Is this what you envisioned? Marrying a man who wouldn’t be present during your youth? Time is slipping away for you. You’re thirty-three, approaching thirty-four. How long can you wait for him? I don’t wish you pain. I’m simply saying we could have been together until the end if you had given us a chance. I would have slept beside you every night, checking to see if you were in pain. We could have had children running around our home, and our lives would have been better together than apart.

Now, look at us. You’re married but alone. I’m single and fearful, all because of you. Still, I hope you find joy and that your dreams come true so you can smile again, because smiles suit you well.

Yours Never,

Julius

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