They met when she was still a version of herself that didn’t know how to fully trust, to fully love, or even how to stand on her own two feet. He was charming, steady, and everything she thought she needed in that moment. Their love, at first, felt like an escape—a safe place where she could momentarily forget the insecurities and the messiness of life.

But somewhere along the way, the walls she’d built up started to crumble. She let him in, let him see parts of her that she’d kept hidden for so long. At first, it felt right. But as time passed, she noticed cracks—small things, almost insignificant, that chipped away at the foundation of their relationship. She ignored them at first. Love, she thought, was supposed to be messy, a little broken. People weren’t perfect, and neither was love.

But then, there were the lies. The betrayal. The trust that was broken over and over again. She forgave him. She always forgave him, hoping that love would fix it all. But in the end, she realized that love wasn’t enough when the respect, honesty, and kindness were missing.

She left. Or rather, she had to. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, even though deep down, she knew it was the only choice. The pain didn’t come all at once. It came in waves—grief, regret, anger—until eventually, those feelings started to fade into something else: a quiet determination.

Years passed. She tried again—slowly, cautiously—with new people, but she kept running into the same walls. She kept finding herself in relationships where the lines blurred between love and fear. She wasn’t healing. She was just surviving. Every time someone came close, the walls went up, the doubt crept in, and she found herself repeating the same cycles. She had become so accustomed to the pain of the past that it was easier to hide behind it than to face the vulnerability of being open again.

And then, one day, she ran into him again. The one from her past. He was older now, but his smile was the same. They spoke about the old times, the broken things, and the things they’d never said. He had changed, in his own way—apologetic, regretful—but she couldn’t deny the ache that stirred inside her. Part of her wanted to go back, to rewrite the past and fix the pieces that had been left shattered. But as they talked, something shifted. For the first time in a long while, she realized how far she’d come. She wasn’t the same person who’d walked away from him years ago. She had grown. She had learned how to love herself first. She had rebuilt herself in the quiet, unseen hours.

And as she stood there, facing him with the weight of all her past choices, she understood that the love she was seeking wasn’t one that could be found in someone else. It wasn’t a matter of fitting someone else into the spaces she had carved out. It was about finding peace within herself, building her own foundations, and embracing the truth of who she was.

She didn’t need him anymore—not in the way she thought she did before. What she needed was to keep honoring herself, her growth, and the lessons she had learned from both love and heartbreak. The hardest part wasn’t letting go of him—it was letting go of the version of herself that still needed him to complete her.

And in the end, that’s where the real healing began.

PS: Real and Raw healing began when I could share our journey and not shed a tear.

By NNB