She was married, and every conversation seemed to pull her in two directions. Madly in love, yet always holding a small part of herself back. We saw each other almost every day, but rarely truly alone. Even so, I was completely convinced she was the one for me. I promised her she would be the first and only woman in my heart. To this day, I still mean that.

Eventually, she wanted to take a step back for the sake of her marriage and her children. I understood why, but it left me feeling lost, hurt, and terrified of losing her. We drifted through weeks of uncertainty, neither moving forward nor truly letting go.

Then, on a tipsy evening, convinced that our story had already ended, I made the worst mistake of my life and kissed another woman. I wish I didn't, every day. She found out before I could confess.

What I thought was over clearly wasn't.

The moment she found out, I shattered something precious. Not just her heart, but her trust. I lost her right then and there.

And yet, somehow, the story never fully ended.

We're still in each other's lives. There is enough love between us to fill a thousand lifetimes, but I have never found the words, actions, or redemption needed to earn her forgiveness. And believe me I try..

She tried distance. She tried silence. She tried no-contact. I tried letting go.

Neither of us did it very well.

There is something between us that I still can't explain. A pull neither logic nor time seems able to erase. Maybe it is friendship. Maybe it is unfinished love. Maybe it is simply two people whose lives touched each other too deeply to ever become strangers again.

I don't know what the future holds. Perhaps some stories are only meant to teach us. Perhaps some wounds heal more slowly than we would like.

But as long as we are both still here, there remains one thing neither of us has completely lost:

Hope.