Chapter 2 – The Door That Closed

After Barry left, the house turned into a memory. Every small thing carried his name. Alina looked at his empty chair and felt her chest tighten. Nights were the hardest. She waited for footsteps that never came. Sometimes she imagined the sound of his key turning, but the door always stayed silent.

She tried to act strong in front of people. When her neighbor asked, “Are you okay?” she smiled and said, “I’m fine.” But inside, she was breaking. She couldn’t understand how a man who once held her hand now didn’t care if she lived or not.

Days passed in slow motion. She stopped answering calls. She avoided her friends because she couldn’t face their questions. Her mother called one evening and said, “Come home for a while.” Alina whispered, “No, I’m fine here.” After hanging up, she burst into tears.

Every morning she looked in the mirror and saw tired eyes. She touched her face and said softly, “He said I’m not beautiful anymore.” Her voice trembled. “But I gave him my best years.” She sat on the floor, hugging her knees like a child who had lost everything.

One afternoon, she opened her wardrobe and found the red dress Barry had gifted her on their anniversary. She held it close and whispered, “You said this color was made for me.” For a moment, she smiled, then her smile broke into tears. She placed the dress back and closed the door as if closing the past.

Weeks later, the divorce papers arrived. She looked at her name written beside the word “single.” Her hands shook. She signed slowly, feeling like she was signing away her life. The pen slipped from her fingers. She whispered, “So this is how love ends.”

That night she sat near the window, staring into darkness. “Barry, please come back,” she said to the empty room. Her tears fell again and again until she felt no strength left.

A few days later, she saw a photo online—Barry smiling beside a young woman. The caption read new beginnings. Alina’s heart stopped for a moment. She stared at the screen, whispering, “So this is why you left.” She felt anger and pain mix inside her like fire and ice. She turned off the phone and cried till morning.

When the sun came up, she said to herself, “I have to live.” But living felt like punishment. She tried to cook but ended up crying in the kitchen. She tried to sleep but dreamed of him laughing with someone else. Her heart refused to heal.

One evening, she opened her old diary. Between two pages she found a letter Barry once wrote: You are my forever. She touched the words and said, “Forever lasted five years.”

Days kept passing. Bills piled up. She had to think about money, about rent, about how to survive alone. For the first time, she felt fear of the future. “I don’t know where to start,” she said to herself.

Then one morning, she looked outside and saw children going to school. Their laughter reminded her that life was still moving. She whispered, “Maybe I should move too.” She wiped her tears and made tea. That small act felt like courage.

She started reading job posts online. She didn’t know if she could work again after years of being a wife. But something inside her said, “Try once.”

That evening, she opened her closet again, removed all of Barry’s things, and packed them into boxes. While doing it, she said aloud, “Thank you for the memories. Now let me breathe.” When she finished, the room felt lighter.

It was the first step. A quiet one, but real. She still missed him, but she also knew she couldn’t keep waiting. Love had walked out and closed the door behind it.

Alina looked at that door one last time and whispered, “I hope one day you remember what you threw away.” Then she turned around, ready to face life alone.