You told me this was the first time you crossed my boundaries. But you’ve forgotten. this is the second. The first was the Kota Kinabalu trip. Japan makes it the second.

Your words have become hard to trust. So many times, you said the trip was confirmed. Then suddenly, you claimed the ticket wasn’t even purchased. I feel like a fool—a fool who kept believing you and your words. Believing that there was nothing between you and her. Believing, for six long years, that we were still something real.

But I was wrong.

We didn’t pass the test of hardships. You failed me. I was burned out. You were facing career loss. Instead of standing by me—or us— we drifted.

Maybe we simply weren’t strong enough when it mattered. It’s sad. But now, at least, the truth is clear. I just hope it isn’t too late for you to see what you’ve really chosen.

Now that you’re semi-retired, you choose to travel—with her. That was the plan all along, wasn’t it? So carefully thought out. So flawlessly executed.

An excellent plan.

And here I am, left behind, still trying to believe in something that never stood a chance. While I was holding on, you were already moving on—emotionally and physically.

I won’t contact you again—not out of spite, but because I need to leave with whatever dignity I have left. I told you before: the moment you chose to cuddle her, or travel one-on-one with her, that would be the end of us.

You’re a well planner.

And I know I deserve better.

Deleted your contact number. And this will be my last message to you because you ended the relationship abruptly and block my messages after. I hope my love for you won’t turn into hatred.