things i won’t dm your husband

(even though, let’s be honest—you earned it.)

listen, honey—let’s be real.
i’ve tried to exit this storyline more times than i can count.
built entire lives.
moved continents—spiritually, emotionally, tactically.
but you keep orbiting.
you keep checking.
so the reason i’m writing this
is the same reason you’ll see it:
because no matter how far i move on,
how cleanly i cut out,
you won’t let me die.

because deep down,
you know i’ll always be a threat—
not because i’m trying.
but because i don’t have to.

and in all reality,
you knew exactly what i was to you.
(please do not play dumb.)
even when i was going through the worst shit of my life,
i showed up for you.
fully.
quietly.
without agenda.

i gave you something real—
grace, cover, loyalty.
and you gave me nothing.
no mercy.
no reciprocation.
you let me rot.
you let me check the fucking bill.
(emotionally & monetarily)
and you didn’t fucking think twice.

but sweetie, don’t forget-
if this were a competition,
you wouldn’t even pass the vibe check.

but here’s the difference—
unlike you,
i actually love the people you keep in emotional hostage situations.
and real love?
it’s not manipulation.
it’s not optics.
it’s knowing you could burn shit down,
and choosing not to—
not because you don’t deserve it,
but because they don’t.

that’s restraint.
not weakness.
it’s letting god handle the karma
i’m overqualified to deliver.

so let’s be straight about your life—
you didn’t build it.
you staged it.
for the comments.
for the applause.
for approval from the church moms
who’d block your number
if they ever saw the unedited version of your story.

because your whole existence is a glorified cover-up.
a rebrand for women who would 100%
call you exactly what you are.
(and they would.
without hesitation.
in a prayer group text.)

and that’s why you’ll never touch me.

because i don’t have to edit the truth
even when it’s ugly.
i don’t use people to make the story look better.
i don’t slap a halo on wreckage and call it redemption.

and girl—
even when my husband had me by the throat,
i didn’t call up my ghosts.
because i don’t keep men on standby
to stabilize my self-worth.
i don’t stack bodies
to build a personality.
and i don’t play checkers
(i know you can’t play chess)
with people’s lives
just to feel like someone still wants me.

you don’t envy me because i’m mean.
you envy me because i’m intact.
because i can sit in stillness
without disintegrating.
because whatever lives in me—
that thing that makes him look at me like that—
you’ll never have it.

so go ahead.
keep watching.
keep refreshing.
keep rearranging your personality
to chase an energy you’ll never match.

but let’s call it what it is:
the real reason i still live rent-free in your head
has nothing to do with the past.
it’s that you know—
deep down,
exactly who i am
in his story—
and worse,
you know who you aren’t.

so no,
i won’t message your husband.
even though i could.
even though he should know.
because the truth?
you’re already living with the consequences.
i don’t need to say a word.

i’m not your competition.
i’m just the woman your whole life is built to erase.

so stay soft out there, wifey.