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There’s a specific kind of pain that comes with discovering that the person you love—the person you trusted—wasn’t honest with you from the start. It’s like standing in what you thought was solid ground, only to realize it was just a thin layer of ice over deep, freezing water.

At first, you’re numb. You don’t know how to feel. Should you be angry? Hurt? Betrayed? Confused?

Well… the truth is, it’s all of those. It hits in waves. One moment, you tell yourself it’s not a big deal. The next, you’re replaying every conversation, every moment, trying to figure out what was real and what was just carefully chosen words to keep you in the dark.

It’s strange how a single moment can rewrite your entire story. One discovery, one truth left unspoken for too long, and suddenly, what felt like a love story starts to feel like a carefully edited version of reality. The kind where pieces were missing—not because they didn’t exist, but because someone decided you didn’t need to know them.

And now, you sit with the weight of it. Wondering if you should be angry or just exhausted. Wondering if the love you’re holding onto is real—or just an illusion built from half-truths.

The Realization That Changes Everything

It starts with disbelief.

No, this can’t be right. Maybe you misread something. Maybe there’s an explanation.

You question if you’re overreacting. Maybe it wasn’t that serious.

But then it hits—this is real. And suddenly, the world feels different. The trust you thought was there wasn’t, and now you’re left standing in the wreckage of what you thought was safe.

Then comes the anger.

Why didn’t he tell me?

Why did he let me believe something that wasn’t true?

And worse—how long has he been okay with me not knowing?

And then, the self-doubt.

Was I too trusting? Was I blind? Did I ask the wrong questions, or did I just not ask enough?

The betrayal doesn’t just make you question them—it makes you question yourself.

There’s no manual for this. No script that tells you how to react when you find out someone you love wasn’t upfront with you. You struggle to make sense of it, battling with your own thoughts.

Maybe they didn’t think it was important. Maybe they didn’t mean to hurt you. Maybe it was just a mistake. 

But the thing about honesty is—it’s never accidental. The truth doesn’t get forgotten. It gets buried. It gets hidden behind good intentions, behind fear, behind the hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d never find out.

And now that you know, there’s no way to unsee it. 

What Now?

You could be angry. You could cry. You could try to act like it doesn’t bother you, convincing yourself that if you love them enough, you can move past it. But at the end of the day, you have to sit with yourself and ask,

“Can I live with this?”

Not just today, but tomorrow, and the day after that, and every time you look at them and remember what they didn’t tell you?

People will tell you to talk it out. To be rational. To listen. But understanding doesn’t always mean the hurt disappears.

So maybe you take a step back. Maybe you sit with the pain instead of rushing to fix it. Maybe you remind yourself that honesty isn’t something you should have to beg for—it should have been given freely. Maybe you let yourself feel all of it—the anger, the sadness, the disappointment—without apologizing for it.

Because here’s the thing: you deserved the truth from the start. You deserved to be given all the pieces, not just the ones that were convenient for them to share.

You might choose to forgive. You could try to stay and rebuild. Or you may decide to walk away, knowing that trust isn’t just about what someone does next, but about what they chose to do before you even knew there was something to forgive.

Moving Forward—With or Without Them

Forgiveness isn’t something you owe. It’s something you give when you are ready—if you ever are.

Maybe you choose to stay, to rebuild, to see if trust can be pieced back together. Or maybe you walk away, knowing that love should never come at the cost of your peace of mind.

Either way, you’re not wrong for feeling hurt. You’re not wrong for questioning everything. And you’re definitely not wrong for wanting more.

At the end of the day, we all want to believe the best in the people we love. We want to believe that their mistakes were just that—mistakes. That their dishonesty wasn’t meant to hurt us, but to protect us. But here’s the thing: love isn’t about protection through deception. It’s about truth, even when it’s uncomfortable.

And if you’re reading this wondering what to do next—just know, I’m still figuring it out too. Maybe that’s why I’m writing this—to convince myself as much as you. 

Salam Ramadhan 

X, Hani.