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I should’ve been safe. I should’ve been untouched. Just a reader, nothing more— a stranger peeking through ink into someone else’s world.

But your story didn’t stay on the page. It crawled into my chest, wrapped itself around my ribs, and whispered a love I foolishly believed God would protect.

I watched them choose wedding colors, laughing softly, building a future brick by fragile brick. And I felt hope— real hope— a dangerous, addictive thing I shouldn’t have held.

Then you sent him away. To war. To fear. To a place where even prayers start shivering.

And something inside me snapped.

Not because he left her. But because God didn’t stop him. Didn’t shield a love that asked for nothing but a chance to exist.

Tell me, what kind of universe lets two souls bleed for each other only to watch them drown in the name of duty?

What kind of god looks at a love so pure and still chooses silence?

I slammed the book shut— but it was too late. The darkness had already seeped in. My faith, my trust, my belief in love’s protection… all of it cracked under the weight of a story that wasn’t even mine.

And now I’m left grieving a heartbreak I never lived, mourning a future that belonged to fictional hearts, yet somehow buried a real piece of me.

Tell me… how do you pray again when the God you prayed to couldn’t save the only love you believed in?