HE WAITED WHILE I HEALED

I wasn’t looking for love when I met him.

In fact, I was still at war with the idea of being loved at all.

Four years ago, I was just trying to breathe through the days broken, guarded, holding my wounds together with a fake smile and tired prayers. Healing wasn’t soft; it wasn’t peaceful. It was loud, lonely, confusing, and filled with days I didn’t know how I survived.

And then he appeared not like lightning, but like a soft breeze.

Not demanding space, but offering presence.

He didn’t try to fix me. He just stayed.

He was... different.

I called him my twin soul before I even understood what that meant. We mirrored each other in ways I couldn’t explain the pain, the quietness, the laughter, even the fear. It was like looking into someone else and seeing all the parts of myself I had buried but instead of feeling shame, I felt safe.

I wasn’t ready back then.

And he knew it.

So he waited.

I’d push him away when the weight of my past screamed louder than reason. I’d freeze when his love got too close, scared it would become just another scar. I couldn’t believe someone would choose to stay not after seeing all the mess behind my smile.

But every time I fell apart,

every time I ran,

he found a way to remind me…

“I’m not afraid of your broken pieces. I love you through them.”

And so, piece by piece, I started returning to myself.

It wasn’t some perfect fairytale.

It was raw.

We had moments of silence, confusion, miscommunication, and distance.

We were both still learning, still bleeding from different stories.

But the difference was… he stayed.

He stayed through the process not just the pretty parts.

He never rushed my healing.

Never made me feel guilty for needing time.

He celebrated my small wins.

He held space for my breakdowns.

He reminded me that love isn’t always loud sometimes it whispers through consistency.

Four years later, here we are.

Not perfect.

Not without fear.

But real.

Present Loving each other not just from a place of “need,” but from a place of growth.

I still have days where I question myself where I wonder if I’ll ever be able to love as freely as I’m loved. Sometimes I still whisper old lies to myself like:

“You’re too damaged.”

“You don’t know how to love.”

“You’re hard to stay with.”

But then I look at him the way he looks at me like I’m magic even when I’m silent, the way he notices when I get overwhelmed before I even say a word and I remind myself that I’m not who I was.

I’m not surviving anymore.

I’m learning to live.

And more than that… I’m learning to let love.

Letting love is hard when you’ve been betrayed, lied to, abandoned, or used.

It feels like a risk your heart no longer wants to take.

But if I’ve learned anything on this journey it’s this:

Love doesn’t always come in a rush.

Sometimes, it grows in the quiet.

Sometimes, it waits outside your heart until you’re brave enough to open the door.

And when it’s real… it doesn’t leave just because you’re still healing.

He could’ve walked away so many times.

When I pulled back.

When I got triggered.

When I doubted myself.

When I doubted him.

But he didn’t.

And I think that’s what makes this story so beautiful.

Because I didn’t just find love.

I found someone who loved me during the parts of my life where I didn’t even love myself.

So here I am…

Still learning.

Still reminding myself that I don’t have to protect my heart so fiercely anymore.

Still practicing how to receive affection without guilt.

Still trusting that this love is mine, and it’s safe to rest in it.

I used to ask God why I had to hurt so much before I could be loved.

Now I understand

Some love only makes sense after the storm.

Because the storm teaches you what love should never feel like.

And this

This is everything it was meant to be.