What am I meant to do? Pretend this man doesn’t exist? Act like the past was just a weird fever dream? How do I move on when my heart is still parked outside his emotional disaster zone, refusing to tow itself away?
Before I could stop myself, the words, “I miss you too,” slipped out of my mouth. You absolute fool, I thought. Why am I handing this man the golden ticket to my soul, letting him know he can snap his fingers, and I’ll come running like a lovesick puppy? But that’s the truth, isn’t it? When your soul is tied to someone, can you ever really let them go?
“How have you been?” he asked, casually, as if he hadn’t been MIA for months. Oh, the rage that simple question sent rippling through my body. How have I been? Oh, just peachy! Should I tell him about the late-night cry sessions, the bottomless tubs of ice cream, and the rom-coms I watch on loop to remember what love looks like? Instead, I lied. “I’ve been fine.”
“Fine?” he pressed, his voice dripping with smugness. “I know you. Talk to me.” Talk to you? Sir, no. You forfeited your right to my thoughts when you ghosted me and left me to piece together my sanity like a thousand-piece puzzle. But of course, I didn’t say that. Because I’m me, and this man is my kryptonite.
We talked for hours, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it felt… normal. Like we were back in the early days, when his texts made my stomach flip and his voice felt like home. He told me about his new job, how fulfilling it is, and then dropped the classic regret bomb: “I regret what happened between us.”
You regret it? Really? Regret is when you order the wrong coffee, not when you blow up someone’s life and walk away. But instead of saying that, I nodded along, my heart doing somersaults, because no matter how much he hurt me, his voice still sounded like salvation.
When we finally said goodbye, I was left sitting there, hollowed out all over again. I called my girls for an emergency debrief. The Ice Queen, as usual, was unimpressed. “You answered? Babe, why? Don’t let him hurt you again. I know you love him, but love isn’t supposed to feel like this.”
She’s right, of course. But then there’s that little voice in my head whispering, He does love me. He just doesn’t know how to love me the way I need. His own childhood trauma and insecurities are a wall he’s never been able to climb. And here I am, standing on the other side, wondering how much of my own heart I have left to give.
So what do I do now? Do I carry on my pursuit of love, swiping and hoping for a new beginning? Or do I let myself fall into his orbit again, knowing full well he has the power to destroy me all over again?
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