I told people I moved because of the commute. And technically, that was true. But the real reason? I couldn’t be there anymore. Not after him. He never officially lived with me, but his presence lingered in every drawer, every routine, every silence. A year later, I’ve finally made space—for peace, for growth, for myself. This isn’t just about an apartment. It’s about the moment I stopped chasing and started choosing me.

Because sometimes healing feels like it’s only worthwhile if it’s leading somewhere. To a relationship. To becoming the kind of person who deserves the kind of person you’re trying to attract. Like it’s this character arc where you fix your issues, glow up emotionally, and end up with someone who also went to therapy and drinks green juice.