I remember the morning I finally gathered the courage to leave. It wasn’t a sudden storm, just the slow folding of a truth I had carried too long.

For years, I lived with the ache of feeling like something easily set aside—present, but never fully chosen. Every memory felt sharp, a weight I didn’t know where to set down. I spent so much time trying to be “enough” that I forgot I was already whole. But distance has a way of softening edges. I see now that our time was never meant to be permanent. Some connections exist as crossings, not homes—places we pass through to learn what we need before moving on. We were mirrors for one another, reflecting the pieces of ourselves we weren’t yet ready to embrace.

I want to untangle any lingering sense of obligation or debt. Holding on sometimes hurts more than letting go, and staying would have been a subtle betrayal of who we were becoming. Space became necessary for both of us to grow in ways we couldn’t while standing side by side. When the ending couldn’t be named, I named it. And if that makes me the “villain” who broke the silence, I carry it lightly, knowing I stayed as long as I could with an honest heart, loving you until the moment I had to start loving myself more.

I am grateful for what we shared. Those years were not wasted—they were lessons, tender and sometimes sharp. Loving you showed me the breadth of my own capacity, a gift I carry with me. I hope that, in time, we each find steadier ground—people who meet us as we are now, in all our unpolished, messy truths, not as the versions of ourselves we once tried so hard to become.

I thought this ending would undo me. I imagined solitude as a cavern I could not escape. But instead, it opened something delicate and bright. There is a steady, gentle joy in finally choosing myself, in learning that the only person I need to make peace with is the one in the mirror. I am discovering how to step forward without apology or the shadow of guilt trailing behind.

I wish you well, sincerely. You are more fragile than you allow yourself to see, and I hope you learn to be tender with your own heart. I hope you stop bending into spaces that ask too much and stop shrinking to fit lives that do not honor your spirit. You are worthy of a love that is steady, and a heart that does not make you feel like an option.

I loved you, truly. And I also recognize when something has reached its natural conclusion.

If I could return to the beginning, to that very first day, I would linger there for a moment—when the air between us was light, when everything felt simple, and love had not yet learned its weight. I cherish that version of us. But time moves forward, and so must we. I hope we each step into our next paths with steady hearts, carrying what we’ve learned, and finding our own gentle horizons.

This is my goodbye.
And this is a new beginning—for both of us.

With love,

Ang 🌸