You used to love him. More than anything. More than you probably should have.

He used to say he would never love anyone the way he loved you. He used to hold you close, whisper that you were special, that you were everything. Then, the very next day, he let you go. Just like that. No warning. No explanation that made sense. One night, you were wrapped in his arms, safe in the warmth of his promises. The next, you were alone, shattered, wondering if any of it had ever been real.

You haven’t been the same since.

Every time he looks at you, a thousand memories flood your mind. His smile. His laugh. The way he used to trace circles on your skin absentmindedly. The way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. But now? Now, when your eyes meet his, it burns. It hurts so badly you have to look away before you break all over again.

And then, the other day—he said your name.

It was so casual, so meaningless to him. But to you, it was a knife to the heart. You had forgotten what it sounded like coming from him. It used to be soft, full of warmth, dripping in love. Now? Now, it was just two empty syllables. Cold. Distant. Like you were nothing more than a stranger.

Why? Why weren’t you enough? What changed? What did you do wrong?

But you don’t let yourself think like that. Not anymore.

So instead, you hate him.

You hate him because it’s easier than hurting. You hate him because the alternative is longing for someone who let you go without a second thought. You hate him because it’s the only way to survive.

And maybe, if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, one day, you’ll actually believe it.