LOVE IS AN ILLUSION

Chapter One: I didn’t really believe I was healed. I just thought I was surviving. Healing isn’t loud. It doesn’t come with fireworks or sudden happiness. It’s quiet. It shows up in little moments , when the ache in your chest feels lighter, when you can breathe without feeling like something is missing. My first heartbreak!… it took everything. My confidence. My softness. My belief that love could be kind. It left me guarded, careful, afraid to hope again. I told myself I was fine, but deep down, I was still broken. The kind of broken that hides behind smiles. I wasn’t looking for love. I was just trying to feel like myself again. And then he came. It all started the night he walked into my workplace. I happened to be the one attending to him and his friends. I wasn’t looking for love , I was just doing my job. After I helped him, he asked for my contact. I didn’t give it to him at first. I hadn’t fully healed yet. Why would I give my number to a stranger? My heart wasn’t ready, (Those were my inside thoughts). But he was persistent. He wouldn’t leave. He insisted, even lingered a little, until I finally gave in. That night, he called three times, and I didn’t pick up. Not out of pride , I just wasn’t ready for whatever he wanted. Then came the fourth call. I hesitated… then I answered. And that’s how our conversation began, unknown o me he was repeatedly calling in respect to his wallet he left behind and asked that i help him keep it that he would come pick up tomorrow, afterwhich the main conversation followed; nothing dramatic, really. No sparks, no fireworks. Just talking. Simple. Easy and soft spoken. He spoke more, I listened. Not distracted. Not impatient. I felt like what he said actually mattered. I kept my distance at first. I had learned the hard way: letting someone in gives them the power to hurt you. And I wasn’t ready for that again. But he was patient. He didn’t rush me. Didn’t demand my stories, my time, or my trust. He stayed. Steady. Gentle. Present. And that? It scared me more than anything. Because I knew how consistency worked, it had once been my safe word for love. Until it wasn’t. “You don’t have to be afraid with me,” he said one evening, soft and calm. I smiled. But inside, my chest tightened. People had said that before. And it had never been true. Still, I wanted to believe him. Slowly, I let him in. Shared parts of myself I had promised never to reveal, the nights I cried, the loneliness, the version of me I lost trying to make someone stay. He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t judge. Didn’t brush me off. “I’m sorry you went through that,” he said quietly. “You didn’t deserve it.” Those words!.. they settled somewhere deep inside me I’d forgotten existed not knowig what lies is bigger than this hurt i carry inside of me. Being with him felt easy. Comfortable. Like exhaling after holding my breath for too long. He made me laugh, really laugh on days I’d forgotten how. He noticed the small things, remembered what I said, asked how I was. Not like people who pretend to care. I told myself it was safe. Just a little. After all, isn’t that what healing looks like? Trusting again? Letting joy in slowly? He felt like proof that maybe, just maybe… love didn’t always hurt. Then one night, our hands brushed. I froze. Not because I didn’t want him to touch me, but because I did. Our fingers intertwined. Warmth spread through me fast, thrilling, and scary all at once. Followed by that familiar fear: Don’t trust this. It will hurt. “If this is too much,” he started. “No,” I said quickly, gripping his hand tighter. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t just fine. It felt good. Too good!.. Later, alone, I stared at the ceiling, replaying the evening. The way he smiled. The calm in his presence. How safe it felt. I told myself not to overthink. But my heart was already asking questions my mind wasn’t ready to answer. What if this is love again? What if I’m ready? What if I’m not? Then my phone buzzed.I’m glad I met you. I feel like you came into my life for a reason. I stared at the words. Part of me wanted to run, protect myself from promises, expectations, and heartbreak. But another part, the part that still stubbornly believed in love, held on tight. Maybe this time! I thought. Maybe love doesn’t always end in pain. I didn’t know yet that some illusions are strongest at the very beginning.