Each time he didn’t answer, it stung like a tiny wound, teaching me little by little that my efforts and affection weren’t being returned.
What hurt most wasn’t the physical distance—it was the slow realization that the closeness I held onto seemed to matter only to me.
Then, last week, after countless missed calls, he finally answered. For a fleeting second, I felt relief but his tone was curt, rushed, almost dismissive. He told me he was too busy, and that I shouldn’t call so often. Those words pierced deeper than I predicted.
It felt like a door had slammed shut not only to his home, but to the bond I’d been extremely trying to keep alive. In that moment, I realized I had to make a choice for my own peace of mind.
So, I stopped waiting.
I joined a book club, began volunteering, and surrounded myself with people who truly applauded my presence. The ache of his absence is still there, but it has taught me something invaluable: love should flow both ways.
Sometimes, the kindest thing we can do for ourselves is stop chasing those unwilling to meet us halfway, and instead pour our energy into relationships and passions that bring warmth and meaning back into our lives.
