III. The Confrontation and the Mockery
I couldn't stay silent anymore. One night, with tears streaming down my face and my hands trembling so hard I could barely hold the phone, I confronted him. I reminded him of the nights we spent dreaming of our future. I reminded him of the dignity I had surrendered to him, the trust I had placed in his hands, and the sacrifices I was ready to make—leaving my family, my home, everything. I begged him to tell me why he was doing this.
His response was a cold, sharp laugh that echoed in my ears like a death knell. There was no mercy in his voice, no trace of the man who once called me his soul. "You gave me everything because you wanted to," he said, his words dripping with venom. "I never forced you. You chose to be a fool for love. Don't blame me for your own stupidity." He told me that Sanjida was everything I could never be—fun, exciting, and not a "burden" like me. Every word he spoke was a weapon designed to destroy my spirit. The hero of my story had officially become the villain of my life. He looked at my tears not with regret, but with boredom. I realized then that I was just a chapter he had finished reading, a toy he was bored with, while he was my entire library.