I hadn't heard from him in three weeks.
For months, he had shown up. Steady, week after week. Then nothing. No message. No reason. Just quiet where a voice used to be.
I decided to email him. The first thing that came was worry. Was everything okay? Had something happened? I wrote that down, and I meant it.
Under the worry was disappointment, hard to swallow. I loved our time together. Something real had grown between us, and now I didn't know where it stood.
I didn't push it away. I let it pour through me. I let it rise and settle.
When it settled, the water went clear. Nothing was being done to me. A life had changed shape, the way lives do, and he was moving with it. Innocently. The way I have moved with mine a hundred times. There was nothing to forgive. Nothing to fix in him.
One question remained, and it was mine.
What do I want?
Not what does he owe me. Not what does this say about me. What do I want?
I stayed with it until the answer came. I want a relationship where we both show up and are engaged.
One simple sentence. It gleamed.
I went back to the email and typed what I wanted. Then I asked the only honest question I had for him: Do you want this too, now?
If yes, we begin again, with a rhythm that holds us both.
If no, we are good.
It was honest. We are good. His no wouldn't take anything from me. His yes wouldn't complete me. What we built belongs to both of us, and it doesn't disappear because the season turned.
I added a date, so neither of us would be left waiting in the fog. I ended the way I want to end most things: Let me know what is true for you. Sending love.
Then I let him be free, and I let myself rest in what I'd said.
Are you standing at the edge of a relationship that's changing shape? Let's begin a conversation.
