There are moments in life when you think you’ve reached the bottom, convinced that you deserved the hurt you were carrying—that maybe you weren’t good enough to receive the kind of love you truly needed. I had been living in that space for far too long, dragging around the weight of a previous relationship that had left me wounded. Then, a chance meeting happened, and everything changed.
It wasn’t planned, and yet, it felt like fate. The energy between us was undeniable, the kind that makes you pause and wonder if this is the moment. But, as always, timing felt off. I wasn’t sure if I was ready. Even though the vibe was there—swirling around us—I’ve never been one to make the first move. I’m more of an observer, watching how someone else moves before I decide to match their energy.
We spent hours talking, peeling back layers of our lives, sharing intimate stories that you wouldn’t normally reveal to someone you just met over lunch. It was easy. Effortless. I couldn’t believe how comfortable we both felt opening up about our struggles. But I had to remind myself this was a business meeting. I was there for work, and I couldn’t—shouldn’t—act on any feelings, no matter how tempting it was. The uncertainty lingered, but the connection was undeniable.
Fast forward to today, and I can say with all my heart that meeting this person was the turning point I didn’t know I needed. He healed something deep inside me that had been broken for a long time. He pulled my heart out of a place it had been stuck, poked, and prodded by someone who never knew how to care for it. I’ve always been resilient, but I hurt just like anyone else. I love with every bit of my being because I don’t know how to love any other way.
This feels different. This feels good. This is what I’ve been waiting for my whole life—the instant connection, the vulnerability, the comfort of knowing that behind every word and action is a love that’s solid and real. It’s not forced or questioned. It just is.
Someone once told me that the universe and gods have a cruel way of showing us what we want, only to keep it just out of reach—like a museum piece you’re not allowed to touch. That’s been the story of my life. Timing never seemed to align for me, and maybe this is just another example. But I can’t help but remain hopeful.
I used to call myself a hopeless romantic. Now? I think I’m a hopeful romantic. Because for the first time, I think I may have found my soulmate.
To be continued…