It's strange how someone can leave you over and over again…
And still find a way to take up space in your mind.
Even after blocking Jayden…
Even after saying I'm done…
Even after writing "was" on that box…
He still showed up.
Not in person. Not in messages.
But in memories. In the quiet moments. In the echo.
That morning, I walked into the grocery store to pick up oat milk and fruit.
A song came on one we used to listen to in his car.
That car.
It wasn't even fancy. The speakers crackled, and the AC only worked when you hit the dashboard.
But in the beginning, it felt like our little world.
A safe place music loud, windows down, my hand in his.
I stood frozen by the cereal aisle, oat milk in hand, as the chorus played.
I didn't cry. I didn't smile. I just remembered.
He used to sing this to me like it was written for us.
Then I remembered the time he made me walk home because I asked him why he hadn't introduced me to his friends yet.
"Why do you always want to ruin things?" he snapped.
As if asking to be acknowledged was a crime.
Some memories are beautiful at first glance.
But when you zoom in…
You see the cracks.
You see that the smile was nervous.
That the kiss was followed by silence.
That the love wasn't real but the hurt was.
I checked out quickly and walked home. The air felt heavy. Not hot just heavy.
Sasha called while I was halfway through slicing bananas.
"How's my emotionally healing queen doing?" she asked.
"Still healing," I replied. "But this morning hurt more than usual."
"Memory attack?"
"Yeah. Stupid song."
"Girl, songs will betray you when you least expect it," she said with a chuckle. "One second you're vibing in the cereal aisle, the next you're remembering how he forgot your birthday."
"Exactly!" I laughed. "Why does the brain do that?"
"Because it's still connecting love and pain," she said. "But you're slowly breaking that link."
"Some days I miss him," I admitted softly. "And I hate that I do."
"Missing him doesn't mean you want him back," she said. "It just means you're grieving the part of you that hoped he'd be better."
That hit deep.
Later that night, I curled up in bed with a heating pad and a cup of peppermint tea. I didn't check my phone. I didn't scroll through old photos. I didn't reread our messages.
Instead, I opened a fresh page in my journal and wrote:
Just because love is loud doesn't mean it's safe.
Just because someone wants you doesn't mean they value you.
Just because you miss someone doesn't mean they're meant for you.
I stared at that last line for a long time.
Because missing Jayden had nothing to do with him.
It had everything to do with how I felt with him in the beginning.
Seen. Special. Chosen.
But that feeling faded. Fast.
And I spent more time trying to get back to the beginning than building something real.
I remember once, I had a cold. I asked Jayden to bring soup. He said he was "too busy," even though he was just playing video games all night.
But later that week, I still helped him move furniture for his cousin.
He didn't show up when I needed care.
But I showed up every time.
I didn't see it then.
But now it's so clear.
The difference between real love and convenient love is simple:
Real love shows up.
Even when it's inconvenient.
Even when it's quiet.
Even when there's nothing to gain.
That night, something shifted.
I didn't cry myself to sleep.
I didn't reread old texts.
Instead, I looked at myself in the mirror and whispered,
"I'm proud of you."
Not because I'm over everything.
But because I finally stopped blaming myself.
I stopped thinking I was "too sensitive."
I stopped thinking I asked for too much.
I stopped thinking his love was the best I could get.
Because real love wouldn't make me question my worth every night.
Real love wouldn't punish me for having needs.
The next morning, I woke up to a message.
But not from Jayden.
It was from a client I had just designed a logo for part of that new freelance project.
Client: "Ava, you're seriously talented. We'd love to offer you a permanent design partnership. Let's talk soon!"
I sat on the edge of my bed, stunned.
Someone saw my work.
My skill. My effort. My value.
And they wanted me. Clearly. Directly. Honestly.
Tears rolled down my cheeks but this time, they weren't from heartbreak.
They were from validation.
Not because someone loved me romantically, but because they respected my contribution.
They saw what I brought to the table.
And didn't treat me like an afterthought.
Maybe this was the lesson.
Love that only shows up when it's convenient isn't love.
It's comfort.
It's ego.
It's habit.
But love that shows up with intention that's what I deserve.
And not just from a partner.
From myself.
From my work.
From my friendships.
From life.
I didn't think of Jayden much that day.
And when I did, it didn't hurt.
It just felt like something that happened.
Like a page in a book I no longer needed to reread.
Because even though he didn't love me the way I deserved…
He showed me what I'll never accept again.
I thought losing him would break me.
But it's the very thing that's finally setting me free.