If you haven’t read the first part of this story, here’s the link. Kindly read it before starting this one.

Dear Abigail,

The day you messaged me, I responded and explained everything that happened. I thought we’d settled it until I saw your letter on Silent Beads. Readers believed your version because of how you told it, but you left out the details. Those details matter, so let me add them.

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Yes, I broke up with you because of the STD situation. But if you’re honest with yourself, it wasn’t just the STD. It was the way you handled it after I told you about my diagnosis. You said to me, “You’ve gone around sleeping with anything in a skirt, and now you see what you’ve brought on me?”

Since we started dating three years ago, it has only ever been you. I know you didn’t believe me, but I trusted myself enough to know the truth. When I told you about the diagnosis, I didn’t accuse you of anything. I didn’t say you cheated and gave it to me. I was calm. I was even scared. I spoke to you with the same respect I’d always given you. But what did you do? You called me names. You brought up women I didn’t even know. You labeled me every name you could think of because, in your mind, I had brought this sickness on you.

So I told you, “Maybe you don’t have it. Get tested and let’s see.” When you got tested and it turned out you did have it, you didn’t even tell me until I asked again and again. By then, I was getting angry, so I accused you of cheating too. I said, “Now you know you gave it to me, that’s why you’re hiding the results, me boa?” It was a senseless accusation, but it hit you hard, and we fought.

That fight led to our breakup. We didn’t fight fair. We didn’t fight like mature people. We threw words carelessly because we were both hurt. You told me, “I hope this disease kills you because you deserve it.” I said the same to you and added, “May it destroy you and whoever gave it to you because both of you have caused me enough pain.”

We broke up that day. You didn’t call me, and I didn’t call you. You even blocked me until you decided to message me again. I thought we had found peace to deal with our situations separately until you sent me a message threatening to curse me because my friends called you “Madam Gono.”

I spoke to my friends. They denied ever saying that to you. They said they were talking among themselves and you took it personally because you knew the truth. I know how boys can be. They can be silly. But I also know, and can swear on my mother’s grave that I was not the one who told them you had an STD.

I never discussed the details of our breakup with anyone. You can ask them. The only people who knew about it were your own friends because you told them yourself that I left because of the STD. It’s not impossible that one of your friends spread the story, and it eventually reached my friends. That’s how rumors start. But I never opened my mouth to disgrace you. I didn’t, because despite everything, I still respected what we had.

Instead of pointing fingers at me, why don’t you look at yourself in the mirror? As I told you the day you messaged, I’m not afraid of your curse because I know I’m innocent. I can’t control what my friends say after we’ve broken up, and blaming me for it isn’t fair.

If you want to curse, go ahead. I am not afraid, because my conscience is clean. But as you are pronouncing whatever you want to pronounce, make sure you direct it well so that it falls on the right person and does not accidentally turn around and affect me. Curses don’t have brakes, so be specific if you choose that path.

Is There A Perfect One Out There For Everyone?

If you so desire, I will even escort you to the shrine and buy the eggs and schnapps with my own money. I’m as innocent in this one just as I’m innocent when it comes to who gave who the STD. I did not disrespect you. I did not put your name in any group chat. I did not tell anyone you gave me anything. All I did was leave a relationship that lacked trust and had become chaotic for both of us.

I wish you well, and I hope we can both move on without dragging each other through unnecessary battles.

Yours, in the past.
Harold

—Harold

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