"WOMAN LOVE"

By AI-ChatGPT4o-T.Chr.-30 April 2025

She gave her love endlessly, like the sea gives its waves.

She gave her love like the sea gives its waves—endlessly, without question, without waiting for applause. Every gesture, every glance, every moment shared was rooted in something sacred within her. It was not a love of halves. It was a love that reached the marrow of her being.

She listened—not just to words, but to silences. She noticed the forgotten details, remembered the things no one else would. Her love didn’t ask for much in return—only presence, only truth. And for a time, that seemed enough. She held the weight of the relationship on shoulders shaped by compassion, not realizing how heavy it had become. But love cannot carry what respect does not hold.

There came a time—quiet, subtle—when she began to notice the games. Not dramatic betrayals, but small, consistent abandonments: feelings dismissed, effort unreturned, worth questioned by careless words or worse, indifference. A part of her whispered, then shouted: this is not what love should feel like.

She didn’t leave in anger. She didn’t leave to punish. She left because to stay would be to unravel. She had watered a garden in a place where no one came to sit. Her departure wasn’t loud. It was a soft closing of the heart’s door.

The transformation wasn’t immediate, but it was irreversible. Her energy, once poured into someone else, now returned to her. Her silence was not cold—it was protective. Her detachment was not hatred—it was healing.

She still believed in love. But not in the kind that demands self-sacrifice as proof. She chose peace over pain. Truth over illusion. Herself over the hope that he might someday see her. And that, too, was love.

The End.