People ask me if I regret it.
Twelve years. A daughter. Everything I gave and everything it cost.
They want me to say yes so they can feel better about not understanding sooner. So the story makes sense to them. So there's a villain and a victim and a clean line between the two.
I don't give them that.
What I give them is this:
He never cheated.
Not once in twelve years. Not a look. Not a message. Nothing.
He came home every night. He remembered everything I said. He learned to cook fish because I was afraid of the stove. He washed my things when I was sick even when I told him not to. He sat with me while I read and didn't make me feel guilty for forgetting the world.
He was the first person who ever made me feel like what I said mattered.
He was also the reason I flinched every time a man laughed at my joke.
Both those things are true.
They were true at the same time for twelve years.
That's the part people don't want to sit with. The part that doesn't fit the story they need it to be.
My name is Nadia.
I loved a man completely.
He loved me the same way.
It almost destroyed me.
This is how that happens.
YOU ARE READING
The Wrong Kind Of Love
RomanceStefan never cheated. He never came home late. Never gave her a reason to doubt him. He gave her everything except the one thing she needed. Safety. Nadia loved him for twelve years. She left him anyway. This is the story of both those things being...
