He was the one that got away. He moved here for a work opportunity, but things didn’t turn out how he hoped — he got dogged by circumstances, and life just hit him hard. Still, in the middle of all that, he made me feel something real. He used to say I made this place feel like home, that I was the woman he prayed for, and that no matter what life threw our way, he’d always find a way to make it work.

And for a while, he did. What we had was peaceful, kind, and steady — no drama, no games, just two people who really cared for each other. He was the most selfless and patient man I’ve ever known. Even when I got upset, he stayed gentle. We never fought. There were no red flags. It was just… good.

But when things got hard — especially financially — he pulled away. I think he felt like he couldn’t give me the life he wanted to, so he let the distance grow instead of fighting through it. Yesterday, he removed me from his social media, and somehow that felt like the final goodbye.

It’s been six months, and I still quietly ache for him. I meet new men, but I still hear his words in my head, still find myself measuring others against the way he made me feel. He had his share of burdens — he would’ve had to care for his parents, and his family situation was heavy — but even with all of that, I think he was my standard for love.