✨seeing truth✨
She didn’t just break—
she shattered.
Not in one clean crack,
but in a thousand quiet moments
where his words made her doubt her own reflection.
It wasn’t one betrayal.
It was the slow erosion of trust,
the way he smiled while chiseling her down,
calling it love
while keeping her just confused enough to stay.
But now—
she sits in the rubble,
and for the first time, it feels sacred.
Because this breaking?
It saved her.
The illusion had to shatter
so the truth could speak.
And truth doesn’t whisper.
It roars in the silence after goodbye.
Each piece she picks up now
is a part of herself he tried to bury—
a part that remembers,
that sees,
that knows.
And yes, some mornings still ache.
But the sting fades,
the fog lifts,
and she bleeds less and less
because the wound is finally healing.
Not bandaged with denial,
but breathing—
open to the light.
That’s what truth does.
It hurts like hell.
But then it frees you.
She sees him now—
wandering back to the flickering flames
he once swore were strangers.
He courts mirages with ease,
books passage with sirens
she used to name in the dark—
and he called it madness.
But she wasn’t mad.
She was right.
And now that she’s no longer anchoring his image,
he’s adrift in the very waters
he swore he never swam.
And still—
she doesn’t need the proof.
She already knew.
Her spirit felt the storm
long before the clouds broke.
But seeing it now?
That’s the final push.
The holy confirmation.
She walks away not because of the lies—
but because of the truth
she never needed him to admit.
And she’s not who she was before the storm.
She’s who rose after.
That kind of betrayal
changes a person forever.