Just One Reason

“Just that! For that one reason you hate me,” she screamed. In that second, I realised some bridges aren’t meant to be crossed, they are meant to be burned.

The temperature in the room plummeted. I stood there, chest heaving and hands shaking, staring at her in utter disbelief. Just one reason?

That “just one reason” was the anchor that had dragged me through many sleepless, agonizing nights. It was the reason I had sat in the dark questioning my capability and my worth. She had spent years carefully crafting a narrative that I was undeserving, that my hard work was an illusion, and that I should settle for less. I had almost believed her.

A small, almost inaudible laugh escaped me. It wasn’t at her, but at the absurdity of my own heart. How could I have done this to myself? How could I have let her insecurities become my internal monologue? I had spent years waiting for a safe space from the captain of the attacking team.

“Since you hate me so much, let’s go our separate ways from now on. Doesn’t matter if we are sisters!” she screamed again.

She turned and left, finally realising she wouldn’t get another word from me. I had no more explanations to offer, no more accountability to demand. Her screams hit a wall I had spent the last few minutes building, brick by silent brick. I was done letting her negativity stain my canvas.

Weeks later, as I stand in the light of victories I once thought were impossible, I realise the truth. That bridge didn’t just need to be burned to keep her out but it needed to be burned so I could use the embers to light my own way forward. The fire meant to destroy me became the spark for everything I’ve achieved since.