There was a time when I thought asking for more meant I was selfish.
If I asked him to call me back, I was "too clingy."
If I asked to be introduced to his friends, I was "moving too fast."
If I asked where we were heading, I was "making things complicated."
So I stopped asking.
I learned to live with less.
Smaller hugs.
Fewer words.
No plans.
No future.
I thought that would keep him around.
But all it did was make me disappear.
This morning, I sat by the window sipping tea and watching the street below. It was quiet one of those soft mornings where the world feels slow, like it's breathing with you.
My phone was in the other room.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel the need to check it.
I didn't wonder if Jayden had sent another message.
I didn't hope for his name to pop up.
I felt full not with anyone else's love, but with my own.
Sasha dropped by around noon with takeout and gossip.
"You're glowing again," she said, opening the food bag. "Don't tell me it's because of that man."
"Definitely not," I laughed. "I'm glowing because I'm finally feeding my own soul."
"Mmm, poetic," she grinned. "Did he message you again?"
"Yeah. Last night. Said he was ready to try 'for real.' Whatever that means."
She rolled her eyes.
"Of course he did. They always want to try after you've healed from the pain they caused."
"I didn't reply," I said.
"Good."
She handed me a box of rice and grilled chicken.
"You're too good to go back to halfway love," she said. "You were always asking for the bare minimum, and he couldn't even give that."
I paused.
"You know what hurts the most?" I said quietly.
"That I apologized for needing more."
It's true.
I remember one night, I told Jayden I felt lonely.
We hadn't talked in days, and when I finally saw him, I said,
"Sometimes I feel like I'm not a priority to you."
He sighed and pulled away.
"You're always complaining," he said. "Why can't you just be chill like you used to be?"
So I apologized. For expressing pain.
For needing reassurance.
For wanting more than a last-minute text and broken promises.
But today?
I refuse to apologize for needing more.
After Sasha left, I cleaned up and opened my work inbox. A new message was waiting.
Not from Jayden.
From the design client I met earlier in the week.
Client: "Ava, your first draft is amazing! I've never felt so seen through a logo. Thank you. Let's continue with the rest of the branding package."
My heart lit up.
Not because of praise but because it reminded me that being seen is powerful.
That when someone values your work, they show it.
They don't make you beg.
They don't disappear.
They show up.
That evening, I sat at my desk and did something bold.
I wrote myself a letter.
A letter I wish someone had written to me at my lowest.
Dear Ava,
You don't need to shrink to keep love.
You don't have to walk on eggshells or lower your volume.
The right person will never make you feel like your feelings are too much.
You are not too emotional, too needy, too anything.
You are enough exactly as you are.
Stop apologizing for wanting real connection.
Stop apologizing for needing clarity, consistency, and care.
You are allowed to want more.
And you are brave enough to walk away when someone gives you less.
I folded the letter and placed it inside my journal.
Because I needed to remind myself that loving myself wasn't selfish.
It was survival.
Later that night, Jayden's message was still there on my phone.
Unread. Quiet. Sitting like a shadow.
"I want to try again. For real this time."
He didn't say what changed.
He didn't say how he planned to fix the damage.
He didn't even say sorry.
And I realized something important:
People who love you don't leave you confused.
They don't wait until you're healed to remember your worth.
They don't show up with soft words and empty hands.
So I opened his message. Not to reply but to delete it.
And I blocked the new number too.
Not out of anger.
Out of love for myself.
I no longer wanted to hold space for someone who only knew how to love me halfway.
That night, I journaled again:
I don't need a person who comes back.
I need someone who never leaves.
And just before bed, I lit my vanilla candle and stood in front of the mirror.
I looked at myself really looked.
Eyes tired, but steady.
Face softer. Shoulders lighter.
I smiled.
"I'm proud of you," I whispered.
Not because I had it all figured out.
But because I was finally letting go of the love that made me feel small.
I'm not asking for too much.
I was just asking the wrong person.
And now?
I'm finally choosing someone who won't treat love like a part time job
Me.