I returned to work. I started having coffee with an old friend who had missed me during the whirlwind of wedding preparations. I began taking evening walks, something I had always enjoyed but had stopped doing because Daniel preferred to stay home.
Little by little, I began to feel like myself again.
It still hurt. I still loved him. But I was no longer willing to spend every waking moment begging someone to see my worth.
Three weeks after Daniel left, he appeared at my workplace.
He looked tired. His beard had grown longer, and the confident expression I knew so well had disappeared.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
I hesitated, then agreed to meet him at a small café nearby.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Finally, he looked directly at me.
“I’ve been thinking about what happened,” he said. “And I’ve realized something terrible about myself.”
