I used to accept half love.
Half calls.
Half answers.
Half effort.
I used to think that if I was patient enough, kind enough, understanding enough…
The other half would come.
But now I know:
If love comes in pieces, it was never whole to begin with.
I was organizing my closet when I found an old letter I had written but never sent. Folded neatly between the pages of a notebook.
It was for Jayden. From months ago.
I sat on the edge of my bed and read it slowly.
Jayden,
I'm tired. Tired of pretending I'm okay with being second. Tired of smiling when I feel like I'm fading.
You say you care, but only when I pull away. You say you miss me, but only when you're alone. I need more than words.
I need presence. I need effort. I need someone who chooses me on good days and bad days, not just lonely nights.
The letter ended with:
Please love me the way I try to love you.
I folded it back up.
And then I tore it in half.
Because I no longer needed him to read those words.
I needed to live them.
Later that afternoon, I met with a new client at a downtown café someone who found me through a design referral.
She was a young entrepreneur opening a wellness studio. Confident. Clear about her brand. Knew exactly what she wanted.
"Your work speaks for itself," she said. "It's soft, strong, and full of feeling."
I blinked at her words. They hit me in a place I didn't expect.
"Soft, strong, and full of feeling."
She was talking about my design style.
But for the first time… it also sounded like a description of me.
After the meeting, I took a walk through the city square.
A little girl was laughing with her dad, spinning around in circles. A street musician was singing an old soul song about "finding the one." The sun was setting between tall buildings, golden and slow.
I paused.
Not because of sadness.
But because for the first time in a long time… I didn't feel empty.
When I got home, my neighbor Mrs. Beckett waved at me from her porch.
"You've been glowing lately, Ava," she said.
"Really?" I smiled, surprised.
"Yes, baby. There's light in your eyes again. That man must've been a storm."
I laughed.
"He was. But I think I'm finally learning how to enjoy the calm after it."
That night, I lit my candle, curled up on the couch, and rewatched an old movie one I loved before Jayden.
A simple romance. Two people falling in love slowly, kindly, honestly.
No games.
No disappearing acts.
Just love that was safe and clear.
I used to think that kind of love was boring.
Now?
It looks like everything I want.
I opened my journal and wrote:
Half love looks like him texting only when he's alone.
Half love looks like me planning everything and him forgetting important days.
Half love looks like silence when I need comfort, and sweet words only when I try to leave.
Then I wrote:
I don't want half love anymore.
I want a love that makes me feel safe even when nothing's perfect.
A love that doesn't punish me for having needs.
A love that stays not because it has nowhere else to go, but because it wants to be here.
Around 9 p.m., my phone buzzed.
It was Jayden's name again.
But this time, it came from a different number probably because I blocked the last one.
Jayden: "Ava, I know you probably don't want to hear from me. But I've been thinking. A lot. I realize I messed up. I'm ready to try now. For real."
I read the message slowly.
Let the words sit.
There was a time when that message would've made my heart race.
I would've replied in seconds.
I would've hoped this time he meant it.
But now?
I was calm.
Because I didn't need him to say the right words anymore.
I needed him to be the right man.
And he never was.
I didn't respond.
I didn't block him again either.
I didn't feel anger or longing or tears.
I just looked at the message… and felt absolutely nothing.
He's too late.
I grabbed my phone and opened a new message but not to him.
To myself.
Yes, I wrote a message to me. Because I needed to hear it.
Me: "You are worthy of full love. Not pieces. Not maybe. Not when it's easy. You are not a backup plan. You are the main story."
Then I saved it as a lock screen note.
So that every time I picked up my phone…
I'd remember who I am.
I used to beg for his attention.
Now?
I don't even flinch when he reaches out.
Because peace feels better than his version of love ever did.