I don’t hate you, and that’s the problem because it means a part of me still remembers us.
Saumya asked me, her voice filled with exhaustion, “Anu can you really hate someone you loved? I mean, we always hear people say ‘I hate them now,’ but I just don’t get it. How can you go from loving someone with everything you have, to suddenly hating them?” I sat there for a moment, watching her struggle with the question, feeling her confusion in my own chest. I thought about it long and hard. I knew exactly where she was coming from. How could you go from feeling everything joy, excitement, warmth, to this this coldness, this emptiness? “I don’t think you can,” I finally replied, my voice quiet. “Not if it was real love. Love and hate don’t really come from the same place. You might feel betrayed, even numb, but hate? That’s something different.” She looked down, clearly trying to digest what I had said, but I could see the truth in her eyes. She was already beginning to understand. Can you really hate someone you once claimed to love? That’s a question I’ve wrestled with for a long time. And the answer, I’ve realised, is no not if it was real love. True love doesn’t leave space for hatred. It might leave you hurt, broken, or even resentful, but hate? Hate comes from a different place entirely. Most of the people who claim to hate their exes weren’t really in love to begin with. They fall into one of the other three categories those who were in relationships out of attraction, need, or ego. They confuse their temporary feelings for love, and when the relationship ends, their so-called “love” turns into bitterness or revenge. But that’s not love. It never was. The truth is, only a handful of people in this world know what real love is. The rest of us are just trying to figure it out, and in that process, many people get it completely wrong. Think about the people who harm their partners after a break-up. Those who leak private pictures, spread rumours, physically harm, or worse how could that ever come from love? I’ve read horrifying stories one where a man brutally murdered his girlfriend after a breakup, dismembering her body. Another where a woman falsely accused her ex-boyfriend of crimes he didn’t commit, just to ruin his life. There are men and women out there who crosses every limit of humanity, all while claiming they “loved” their partner. Love, real love, doesn’t act this way. It doesn’t destroy. It doesn’t seek revenge. It doesn’t humiliate or harm. Those who do such things might claim they loved, but the truth is, they were only in it for themselves, what they could gain, how they could feel, or how they could appear. When those needs aren’t met, they lash out. It’s important to make this distinction. Because if someone genuinely loved you, they wouldn’t want to hurt you, even after it ended. They might feel anger, heartbreak, or disappointment, but love doesn’t transform into hatred. It doesn’t work like that. When you see someone going to such extremes, it’s clear they were never in love. Not even for a moment. They might’ve been in lust, they might’ve needed you for comfort, or maybe they stayed for the ego boost but love wasn’t part of the equation. True love leaves scars, yes, but not the kind you see on crime reports or in actions. It’s the kind that stays quietly, long after the person has left your life. It’s the kind that makes you want the best for them, even if you aren’t a part of their story anymore. But what about anger? What about those who were cheated on or betrayed? How can you expect someone not to feel rage when their trust has been broken? That’s different, isn’t it? Anger, unlike hatred, has a reason. It has a place. And sometimes, it’s the only way to process the heartbreak of being cheated on. For now, just remember this: love doesn’t hate. It can hurt, it can grieve, it can even walk away. But it never hates. Those who claim otherwise were never truly in love to begin with.
I wanted to hate you, wanted to fight, But love still lingers in the night. Hate is easy, but love is still here, A wound that hurts but holds so dear.