## **“Before We Learned to Speak”**

### I

Piotr always thought his marriage was fine. Not good, not bad—correct. He and Anna had been together since college. A mortgage, two children, a job, a vacation once a year. Everything was in place.

He didn't notice the moment they stopped talking. There wasn't a single argument, a single event. Rather, it was a gradual shortening of sentences, avoidance of topics, and exhaustion.

Anna started staying longer at work. Piotr went to bed earlier. They passed each other in the kitchen like roommates.

### II

When Anna first said out loud that she was unhappy, Piotr didn't understand.

“But we're not missing anything,” he replied.

And he truly believed it.

Anna wasn't having an affair. She wasn't planning on leaving. She simply felt invisible. As if her entire life were a responsibility someone had assigned her.

She started going to therapy on her own. Piotr found out by accident. "So I'm the problem?" he asked.

"No. We are," she replied.

### III

The children noticed the tension sooner than the adults. The older daughter stopped inviting friends over. The younger son began having problems at school.

Piotr stayed at work more and more often. He felt accused, even though no one was accusing him. Anna remained silent more and more often, because she no longer had the strength to explain.

Finally, the word "breakup" was uttered. Spoken without shouting. Without tears.

### IV

For several months, they lived together, now separately. They shared a refrigerator, a bathroom, and a sense of failure. The divorce was a formality, but the breakup—a process.

Piotr moved out first. To a rented apartment with furniture he hadn't chosen. In the evenings, he sat on the floor with his laptop, wondering when exactly everything had fallen apart.

Anna stayed with the children. Suddenly, she felt the weight of a decision. Freedom was quiet and responsible.

### V

A year passed. Piotr learned to shop for one person. Anna learned to say "no." They met when they had children. Politely. Carefully.

One day, Piotr got sick. Nothing serious, but enough to make him feel helpless. Anna brought soup. No more talk about the past.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

It was the first honest word in a long time.

### VI

They didn't get back together. But they learned to talk—after the fact. About what was missing. About the fear of change. About the fatigue they mistook for stability.

The children saw that adults make mistakes too. And that sometimes leaving is a form of salvation.

### VII

For the first time in his life, Piotr was alone and didn't immediately try to fix it. For the first time, Anna lived according to her own rhythm, without feeling guilty.

There was no happy ending. There was something better—honesty.

Because sometimes you have to break up to finally learn to talk.

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