Confession

Hi Lior, (Lior is a fictitious name. The original name is kept in my heart).

Once, when I was a student, we lived in the same building. We used to greet each other, chat, laugh, gossip... You had two perfect little children then. Occasionally, they would visit me.

On Fridays, when I baked sweet challahs, I would bring some to you for Shabbat.

In the building we lived in, you could hear everything. Everyone who passed on the stairs, knocks, conversations, and even shouts.

Lior, I heard you too.

I heard you shouting, I heard you crying, I heard the blows, I heard you defending yourself, I heard objects being thrown, I heard the earth burning. I also heard the silence after the storm.

Know that at night, when you fought him and cried, I cried with you.

I was a young student then, and I was scared. Several times I called the police. I was afraid he would know it was me who called. The police came and went, and the beatings continued. After such nights, you would hide, cast down your gaze. You didn't have to say a word. We both knew.

Finally, after one of those cruel nights, I decided to look for an address that could help you. I found an organization that helps battered women. I begged them to help you. I asked to remain anonymous and gave them your number.

Time passed since then. We moved to another building, I didn't see you anymore.

Until one day I met you. You got out of a car with a man I didn't know. You were heavily pregnant.

We hugged.

You told me: "Meet my husband." You got married again. I saw the light in your eyes, your sense of triumph.

I was so happy that you got back the right to a healthy relationship, to love, to healing, to a family.

At least, that's what I hoped. And that's what I hope to this day.

Lior, you are my hero