Thomas,

I’m not your "wifey" anymore. You made that choice—let’s not pretend otherwise.

I loved you, and I can’t take that back. What I felt was real, even if it wasn’t for you. I tried—tried to make it work, tried to hold on, tried to believe we were on the same page. But the truth is, our definitions of love clearly weren’t the same.
You only told me the truth now because the guilt became too much—for you. It wasn’t about honesty for my sake; it was about making yourself feel better. And honestly? I see that now.
Yes, I appreciate that you came clean eventually. It’s better than letting it drag on in silence. But let’s be real—what you did wasn’t justifiable, and no excuse makes it right. You know that, and so do I.
Distance wasn’t the issue. That’s just a convenient excuse. If you’d really loved me—or truly wanted us to work—you would’ve been there for me. You would’ve put in the effort like I did, again and again. That’s what real love looks like. It takes strength, and it takes commitment. You gave up. I didn’t.
Instead, you dropped all of this on me like it was my burden to carry. Then you vanished—deleting your accounts and disappearing like a coward. I can’t even be surprised. I nearly did the same, but instead, I blocked you. That’s the boundary I needed.
We don’t need to talk. I don’t want to talk.
I just needed to say this—for me. And maybe someday you’ll come across it and understand a piece of what you left behind.
You’re not a bad person, but you made selfish choices—and they hurt someone who genuinely loved you.
I truly hope the next person you love gets the version of you I never got. I hope you treat her better than you treated me.
Goodbye.