When my parents divorced, I didn\u2019t cry. No tantrums, no begging. It felt like a weight lifted. They were strangers under one roof, pretending to be a family no one believed in. Peace came not from love\u2014but from the silence ending. I had known for a long time that this wasn\u2019t how love was supposed to feel.<\/p>\n
The silence in our house was loud. No fights, but no love either. Dinner was mechanical, cold, forgettable. They spoke like neighbors, not partners. Two shadows passing in the same hallway, living separate lives in one broken space. When they said it was over, I already knew it had been for years.<\/p>\n
Years later, I started nudging my mom to date again. She smiled like she didn\u2019t need it, but her eyes told the truth. Then one day, she met someone. She sounded alive\u2014hopeful in a way I hadn\u2019t heard in years. She invited me to meet him. I brought a bottle of wine and my curiosity.<\/p>\n
But when I walked in and saw him, my world tilted\u2014Marcus. My ex. My mom froze. He stammered. I walked out before dinner was served. And love, once again, became complicated. She ended it the next day, quietly, sadly. And I still wonder if either of us will ever really find what we\u2019re looking for.<\/p>\n
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