They apologized

They apologized.

I said it was fine.

I said it so fast the words tripped over each other.

Fine. It was fine. Everything was fine.

The relief washed over their face

like I'd given them a gift.

I hadn't even felt the hurt yet.

I'd jumped straight past it

into the ease of forgiveness.

The ease of not being angry anymore.

Because anger is exhausting.

Because holding onto it

is like holding your breath.

So I just let it go.

I let them off easy.

I watched their shoulders relax.

I watched them believe they were forgiven.

And maybe they were.

Maybe I meant it in that moment.

But now I'm sitting with it.

Now I'm feeling what I was too tired to feel before.

Now I know I gave something away

I wasn't ready to lose.

I forgave them to make myself feel better.

Not to actually forgive them.

Not to actually let them off the hook.

I just wanted the hurt to stop,

so I pretended it was already gone.

Now it's back.

And they're already moving on,

already believing they're forgiven,

already thinking they can do it again.

And I let them.