TIMELESS REFLECTIONS BY ZOEY

When my mother told me a wedding card had come for me, I did not feel sad.
I did not feel angry.
I did not feel like crying.

I felt confused.

She said it was addressed to Mr. and Mrs.

And for a second, I almost laughed.

Not because it was funny.

But because my mind genuinely did not know what to do with that information.

Do I correct it.

Do I explain.

Do I pretend it still makes sense.

I stood there holding the card, staring at those two words, trying to understand how something that ended so completely could still be written so casually.

It felt absurd.

Like a mistake no one bothered to fix.

Like being called by a name that once belonged to me but does not anymore.

There was a moment where I wanted to take a picture of the card and send it to him.

Not to accuse.

Not to argue.

Just to say, look.

Look at how the world still thinks this exists.

Look at how easily a life can be mislabeled after it has already fallen apart.

And then I laughed again.

A short, hollow laugh.

Not relief.

Not strength.

Shock.

That laugh did not come from healing.

It came from confusion.

From the brain protecting itself when reality feels unreal.

From standing between who you were and who you are, with no instructions on how to respond.

This is the strange part of quiet endings.

When your truth has moved on, but the world has not updated yet.

When nothing is officially announced, but everything is already over.

When you are no longer that person, yet reminders keep arriving in the old name.

The card did not make me miss the marriage.

It made me realize how invisible endings can be.

How easily a woman can walk through something life-altering

and still be addressed as if nothing ever changed.

I did not feel broken in that moment.

I felt misplaced.

Like I was being pulled back into a version of myself I worked hard to survive.

I no longer answer to that name.

But sometimes, it still finds me.

And when it does, all I can do is stand there, half-smiling, half-stunned,

holding proof that the world does not always catch up with the truth.

Not yet.