After a period of time, we were still the same, neither closer nor further apart, everything stayed in a state that was hard to define. One day, I asked him about the past, about the time when he went abroad to study, when he found out that I had gotten married. I didn't know why I asked, maybe because there was still something inside me that I had never truly understood. I asked him how he lived during that time. He stayed silent for a moment before answering. He didn't avoid it, didn't soften it, he just spoke very directly. He said,
"I couldn't believe it."
"I didn't believe that you had gotten married."
Then he added that he had no right to stop me, no right to interfere, so all he could do was stand there, watch, and accept it. He said that he still silently wished me happiness, even though inside he was very sad, not a simple sadness, but a very clear sense of loss. He said he felt regret, not regret over something specific, but regret over a possibility, a path that could have been different. He said,
"At that time, it wasn't just losing hope."
"It felt like I lost a light in my life."
The way he said it was very calm, but when I heard it, it felt like something went straight through my chest, not sharply painful, but very deep, very real. But he didn't stop there. He said that he knew his life was still long, that he couldn't stop just because of something like that. He said that if in this life he couldn't have me, then he could still stand there, quietly watch over me, and protect me when I needed it. That was all he thought, and then he continued studying, continued walking his own path. He said all of that very calmly, without blaming, without resentment, without making me feel like I was at fault, but because of that, I felt even more uncomfortable inside. It was a strange feeling, I felt sorry for him, I felt guilty, and at the same time I felt like I was not good enough. I sat there, listening to him, not knowing how to respond, all my emotions mixed together. I realized that I was being loved by someone in a very deep, very steady way, but at the same time, I felt that I did not deserve it. In that moment, I realized something very clearly, he was someone emotionally mature, not the kind of maturity that comes from suffering, but the kind that understands exactly what he is doing, what he is choosing, and accepts what he chooses. I believed that a person like him could have a very good life, could meet someone more suitable, more deserving. And that thought made me start thinking in a different direction. I began to wonder whether me staying close to him like this was holding his life back. I didn't know what I could give him, I only saw myself carrying a past, carrying things that were not whole, while he was so clear, so steady. One day, I told him that maybe we should meet less often, not because I wanted to leave him, but because I couldn't understand my own feelings. I told him that when I was near him, I felt happy, but also afraid, I wanted to come closer but didn't dare, I felt selfish and at the same time unworthy. Between us, there had never been any distance when it came to speaking our thoughts, there was nothing we couldn't say, so I said everything, without holding back, without hiding. I said that maybe we shouldn't be so close, because I couldn't accept the fact that I had a past like that and still come to him. I didn't want him to suffer any disadvantage. I said that maybe I had been selfish all this time, keeping him beside me without giving him a real chance. I didn't want him to be stuck in a relationship without a name. I didn't want him to miss out on other people because of me. I told him that if possible, he should try to get to know someone else, give himself another chance, and see me as just a part of his youth, something that had passed, not something he needed to hold on to forever. When I said all of that, I didn't cry, but inside I felt very heavy. I didn't know if I was right or wrong, I only knew that I was trying to do what I thought was best for him, even if it made me uncomfortable. He listened to everything, didn't interrupt, didn't react immediately, didn't seem surprised, as if he had already thought about all of this before. But when I finished, he didn't answer directly, he didn't say whether he agreed or not, didn't say whether he would follow what I said or not. He only said one very simple thing,
"I respect all your choices and decisions."
His voice was still the same, unchanged, no resistance, no clear agreement, just acceptance. Then he said,
"I'm still here. I'm still me."
"And the rest… my life, I will decide for myself."
That made me fall silent, not because I didn't understand, but because I understood very clearly. He didn't argue, didn't persuade, didn't hold on, didn't let go. He simply stood there, keeping his place, and let me face everything I had just said. In that moment, I realized something, there are kinds of understanding that don't need to be spoken, don't need explanation, just two people standing there, fully aware of each other's place in each other's lives.
Message of Chapter 39
True understanding is not about changing each other's decisions, but about accepting the other person's choice—even when it is not what we want.