When Love Turns into Painful Agony
I find myself watching yet another adaptation of “Romeo and Juliet” and thinking, “How fortunate their love ended in death.”
Not like mine—with a long, torturous fading of feelings that my life has turned into.
The Beginning of a Fairy Tale
I grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other. Since childhood, I was inseparable from my best friend, Emily.
Her brother, Thomas, was like our guardian angel—always around, always protective.
In my younger years, I hardly noticed him—a typical “best friend’s older brother.”
But everything changed once I became a teenager.
Suddenly, I caught him watching me.
I began noticing how he would casually eavesdrop on our conversations or be the first to pick up the phone when I called Emily.
Thomas started joining us more frequently on our outings, trips to the cinema, and café visits.
Then, one day, he asked me out on a date.
It was the most romantic evening of my life.
I stayed awake all night, dreaming about our future.
When I told Emily the next morning, she just smirked:
“Thomas has been in love with you for ages. You just never noticed.”
From that point on, we were inseparable.
Absolute Happiness
We were both building our careers: I was studying at the music academy, performing with an orchestra.
Thomas graduated in architecture, taught at the university, and worked for a major company.
Every success of his was mine, and my victories brought him joy.
He never missed a concert, always in the front row with a huge bouquet.
Ours was a love everyone envied.
Thomas was tall, dashing, blue-eyed, like he stepped out of a painting from ancient Greek artists.
I couldn’t complain about a lack of attention either.
But he was my only one, and I was his only one.
The wedding was perfect.
The honeymoon—like a movie.
Then came the birth of our daughters, our cozy home, financial stability.
What more could one want for happiness?
How Love Dies
But one day I realized: Thomas felt like a stranger.
We no longer had heart-to-heart conversations.
We no longer touched each other spontaneously.
We no longer laughed together.
It became cold.
Thomas hadn’t changed.
And neither had I.
But the love had vanished.
And in its place, irritation, boredom, and emptiness settled in.
Everything I Lost
Thomas was never a tyrant.
But he was always against my career.
“A wife should be home, not touring everywhere!” he would say.
His mother echoed this.
And at some point, I gave in.
I gave up international concerts.
I let go of the career I dreamed of since childhood.
But that wasn’t all.
When his mother insisted we give our apartment to Thomas’s sister because “she needed it more,” I gave in again.
We stayed to live in his parents’ house.
I lost everything.
A Painful Existence
Thomas’s jealousy poisoned every day.
He interrogated me if I even once had coffee with colleagues.
“If nothing happened, why were you smiling at him?”
I grew tired of justifying myself.
Tired of feeling like a criminal just for existing.
But when I brought up the topic of divorce, the play began: “I’ll die without you.”
He pretended to be ill.
He would lash out at doctors.
Threatened me, saying one day he just wouldn’t wake up.
I believed and pitied him.
And stayed.
Day after day. Year after year.
And now I’m terrified to look in the mirror.
That’s not me.
Other People’s Lives, Other Dreams
My friend Emily, who once set us up, avoids me now.
She and her mother act as my personal jury.
They both think I’m ungrateful.
After all, Thomas is “so good,” “a caring father,” “the perfect husband.”
How do I explain to them that I’m suffocating in this marriage?
How do I tell them I hate him?
That every morning I wake up thinking, “When will this end?”
But it doesn’t end.
The love died long ago.
But my marriage turned into a long and painful agony.
Now I understand why Romeo and Juliet died.
Death is tragic.
But when love dies and bodies continue to exist side by side, that is far more frightening.
I’d prefer to end this story once and for all.
But I am not Juliet.
And Thomas is no Romeo.
We are just two strangers in one house, bound by nothing but the past.
So why am I so afraid to leave?
