English Prose and Other Writings

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It's hard to love women who have been broken. You know this. They are strong. Life has schooled them well. They know their worth and what they ask of a man sits squarely beside it. They will not settle for the half-hearted, the mediocre, the hollow gesture. Either you offer them your whole self or leave them be.

They know they can live without you. Not because they wish to, but because they can. Humiliate them once and you have sealed your fate. They will not rage at you, will not shatter into pieces.

They will go silent. They will walk away without fanfare. Without clinging to forever. They will leave you only with memories—beautiful, luminous memories—that will ache in your chest, and you will carry that ache to the end of your days.

Such women are rare. Because they play with honesty, and they understand precisely what they have to offer. Because their wisdom has been gathered through years, through a thousand tears shed. Because what they know comes from hundreds of books read, not skimmed from magazines. Because their eyes are universes—brimming with hunger for life, vast with love. Because when they forgive the unforgivable, they forgive it completely and move on.

They continue building their lives. That is what they do. If you find such a woman, do not let her go.

Because she will become the mirror in which you see everything you ever dreamed of being. Because loving her will remake you. And you will have no choice but to love her.
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