"The Moment I Knew: When Doubt Became Truth"?

 


Last summer, I found myself wrapped up in something that felt exciting—something that felt right. I had been crushing on him for a while, and when we finally started seeing each other, it was like stepping into a daydream. There was a little voice in the back of my mind, though—nagging, questioning. I knew he had been with someone else before me, and even though he reassured me that they had ended things, something inside me hesitated. Still, I silenced that doubt. I wanted to believe him.

Summer passed in a blur of moments with him, fleeting but full of energy. Then he moved to Johannesburg for work. We hadn’t put a label on anything, but I thought we still had something—something unspoken but understood. I believed that whatever we had wasn’t completely over.

Until one day, at work, I casually opened Instagram—and there it was. A picture of him and her. Not just together but living together. In Sandton.

In an instant, everything unraveled. The doubt I had pushed aside came rushing back, slamming into me with full force. Had I known all along? Had I ignored the signs? The timeline was suddenly clear in a way it hadn’t been before—he had been seeing me in that in-between space, between her moving to Johannesburg and him following. Had I been just… a placeholder? A distraction?

I felt foolish. Played. I replayed every moment, every conversation, searching for clues I might have missed. Was it always obvious? Had I just refused to see it? The disappointment settled deep, but more than that—there was frustration. Not just at him, but at myself. I questioned why I had trusted his words so easily, why I had pushed aside my own intuition.

Looking back, I know now that I wasn't wrong for believing in something good. He was wrong for giving me only half-truths. And the person I should trust the most? Me. My instincts were there all along—I just have to learn to listen to them.

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