I couldn't let go of that love. That love was her first whirlwind in the stomach, and it screamed with happiness. She closed the doors of her heart to this love because it was perfect: athletic, beautiful back, neck, and she couldn't stop loving him. And what did he do? He betrayed her, not once, not twice, but a thousand times, with women and men. He was just another disaster for her.
She couldn't imagine leaving him. He would come back to her, and she would accept him. Everyone told her, 'Move on with your life, don't be with him anymore,' and that offended her. She preferred to be the fool, but she understood that she would lose much more than a man.
He was such a complete man, so full of life; he delighted her eyes, mind, and her heart, although broken, didn't hesitate to continue with him.
Gradually, she forgave him. He had an accident and was bedridden for a year. She was happier than ever; she no longer had to wait for him, suffering through the nights, no longer had to see his unanswered messages. She had him at home, all to herself.
And she is terrified that he will recover and return to life, and the suffering will become real again. What would people say about this? Can a person live like this, without any security, without any commitment, just putting faith in the impossible, unimaginable but also possible? These things happen all the time, and holding onto love becomes the only reason to live.
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