Almost, But Not Quite.

The first time Naya met Tobi, she swore she felt something shift in the universe. It wasn’t just attraction it was like her soul had found a home it never knew it was searching for. And somehow, he felt it too. They clicked in a way that made love look easy, effortless. Like breathing.

They spent nights talking about things that didn’t make sense to the world but made perfect sense to them. He traced the outline of her face with his fingertips as if memorizing her. She rested her head on his chest and listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat like it was her favorite song. Their bodies fit together like a perfectly solved puzzle.

They weren’t just lovers. They were best friends. They were mirrors, reflections of each other’s deepest thoughts, wildest dreams, and hidden fears.

But there was one thing neither of them wanted to admit—Tobi was scared. Scared of how much he loved her. Scared of how deeply she made him feel. He had never known a love this consuming, this powerful. And instead of letting it make him braver, he pulled away.

At first, Naya didn’t notice. Or maybe she did, but she convinced herself it was in her head. The unanswered texts, the calls that got shorter, the way he hesitated before saying “I love you.”

Then one evening, as they lay in bed wrapped in each other’s warmth, she finally asked, “What are we doing, Tobi?”

His silence was louder than any answer he could have given.

She felt the words before he even said them. “I don’t know, Naya. I don’t know how to do this.”

Her throat tightened. “Do what?”

“This,” he gestured between them. “Loving you the way you deserve. It scares me. It’s too much.”

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Too much?”

He exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to hold something this deep without ruining it.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to understand. She had given him all of her—her mind, her body, her soul. And he was telling her he couldn’t stay because it was too much?

Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She turned away, pulling the blanket over herself like it could protect her from the ache settling in her chest. That night, she felt him hold her one last time, and even in his arms, she had never felt more alone.

Detachment. That was the word she kept whispering to herself in the days that followed.

She told herself she needed to move on. But how do you move on from someone who was part of your every memory? How do you forget the way someone made you feel when every song, every street, every moment still smells of them?

She tried. She went on long walks, journaled, prayed, and stayed busy. But some nights, the grief hit her so hard she couldn’t breathe. The worst part? He hadn’t even done anything wrong. He didn’t cheat, didn’t lie. He just… left. And somehow, that hurt more.

She wanted to hate him. She wanted to scream at him for making her feel like she was too much when all she had ever been was enough. But deep down, she knew the truth—Tobi hadn’t left because she wasn’t enough. He left because he wasn’t ready for the kind of love she offered.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t her burden to carry.

The first time she ran into him after the breakup, it was unexpected. A random Wednesday afternoon at a coffee shop they used to go to together. She was with friends, laughing at something that didn’t even feel funny. And then, there he was.

Time slowed.

He looked good, almost the same, except his eyes held something she hadn’t seen before—regret. Or maybe she imagined it.

“Hey,” he said, his voice cautious.

She swallowed hard. “Hey.”

It was so strange, how someone who once felt like home could now feel like a stranger in a familiar body.

He hesitated, searching for words. “How have you been?”

Lying would be easier, but she didn’t owe him the truth anymore.

“I’m good,” she said, forcing a small smile.

And she was. Not all the way, not completely. But better. Healing.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous. “I—”

She knew whatever he was about to say would be an apology. And she didn’t need it. Not anymore.

So she cut him off, gently. “I hope you’re good too, Tobi.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—maybe relief, maybe sorrow. She didn’t stay long enough to figure it out. She just walked away.

That night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment.

She used to think closure would come from an explanation, a heartfelt apology, or a long, deep conversation. But now she realized—closure wasn’t something someone else could give her. It was something she had to give herself.

She placed a hand on her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heart. Still beating. Still strong.

One day, she would love again. And when she did, she would experience the kind of love that felt like peace—the type where she wouldn’t have to question her place or if she was asking for too much. A love where she was safe, valued, and chosen every single day without begging for it.

And until that day came, she would keep healing. One breath at a time.