He robbed me of so many things.
He robbed me of my name.
He robbed me of my memories.
He robbed me of finding my roots.
He robbed me of my true love.
He robbed me of my sanity.
He robbed me of my dignity.
He robbed me of the pride I took in saying "Main sirf Apne Shauhar ki hoon"
He robbed me of the pleasure I would have taken in returning to the love of my life.
He robbed me of the pride I would have taken in being able to look into my Aahil's eyes without the guilt of betraying him
He robbed me of my choice.
He robbed me of my sister's dead body.
He robbed me of my identity.
He robbed me of my peace of mind.
He robbed me of the feeling I felt for someone I thought was a stranger.
He robbed me of the last Eid I could have celebrated with my love.
He robbed me of the last few moments I could have spent in the arms of my beloved.
All because he lied, and he never manned up to clear that lie.
And, yet, I forgive him so easily and move on with him?
What kind of a person I am , then I question? May be he didn't rob me of anything. May be I was willing to be robbed all along...