Today marks a year since I started my online therapy sessions. My therapist told me that in order to truly heal, I need to forgive and forget the person who hurt me. He even suggested that I should talk to my ex and tell him that I’ve moved on. But how can I do that? If I say it, he’ll know that I was still stuck all this time, that I wasn’t actually over him. And that’s something I don’t want him to know. I have no desire to see his face again.

He didn’t just betray me by cheating with my own friend, no less but he also disrespected me in ways I never deserved. He hurt me physically and mentally, and while the physical scars have faded, the emotional wounds still remain. The pain of his words, the times he raised his hand, the nights he abandoned me alone on the roadside I try to push these memories away, but they haunt me. What hurts the most is that he never even apologized. He never acknowledged that what he did was wrong. Was it too much to expect even a simple “I’m sorry”?

He cheated on me three times. He used dating apps while I was right there. He flirted with other girls, lied to my face, and gaslighted me when I confronted him. He treated me like I was nothing, as if my feelings didn’t matter. And yet, I stayed. I stayed even when he made me feel like I was worthless, when he convinced me that no one else would love me. I stayed when he humiliated me in front of his friends, laughing at my insecurities as if they were some joke.

Why? Why didn’t I walk away the first time he raised his hand? The first time he left me stranded on the road at midnight with no way to get home? The first time he twisted my wrist in anger? Why did I tolerate it when he controlled my life—when he checked my phone, deleted my contacts, and blocked my friends? When he made me cut ties with people who genuinely cared about me? Why did I let him make me feel like I was the problem when he was the one breaking my trust over and over again?

Why did I stay when he mocked my dreams, told me I wasn’t good enough, and laughed at my ambitions? When he threw away my handmade gifts like they were trash? When he made me beg for his time and affection? When he made me feel like I had to compete with other girls just to be “worthy” of his love?

Why did I stay when he told me how I should dress, what I should eat, and where I was allowed to go? When he pressured me into things I wasn’t comfortable with? When he shamed me for my body, my weight, my choices? Why didn’t I walk away when he forced me to smoke, to eat things I didn’t want to, to become someone I wasn’t just to please him?

I gave him six years of my life. Six years of love, loyalty, and effort. And for what? To be treated like I was disposable? Like I was just there to fill the void whenever he needed attention? I regret every second I wasted on him. He used me for money, for company, for convenience. He never truly cared, never respected me. And now, I question everything. Is true love even real? Will I ever meet someone who will love me for who I am, who will accept my past without judgment? I don’t even know what love is anymore—I only know how to give, how to sacrifice. And after everything, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to trust again.

I just hope that one day, I’ll be strong enough to recognize true love when it comes. I long for a genuine, healthy relationship someone who will see me for who I am, not for what they can take from me. The scars he left aren’t just on my body they’re deep within me, in my mind, in my heart. I still wake up in the middle of the night with panic attacks, reliving those painful memories. And the worst part? No one truly understands what I’ve been through.

But despite everything, I don’t wish this pain upon anyone else. Not even the girl he’s with now. I just hope she never has to go through what I did because no one deserves that kind of trauma.

Khushbu Shah