Chapter 1: The Day I Stopped Breaking for Him

The day I stopped breaking for him didn’t come with the fireworks I always imagined heartbreak would bring. No shouting match, no plates shattered across the floor, no dramatic goodbye at midnight. Instead, it came quietly, almost tenderly, like the last breath of a candle before the room goes dark. I think a part of me always knew it would happen this way—not with an explosion, but with an exhaustion so deep I had nothing left to give. For the longest time, I thought love was about endurance. I thought it meant holding on even when your fingers went numb, even when the rope was cutting into your skin. I told myself that patience was a virtue, that if I stayed long enough, gave long enough, loved hard enough, eventually he would meet me where I stood. But every step I took toward him only widened the space between us. He had a way of making me feel like I was asking for too much when all I wanted was so simple. A good morning text. A question about my day. A hand on the small of my back when we walked into a crowded room,Is this much