I used to think Jayden loved me.
But now I realize…
He just loved that I was easy to reach.
Not easy to understand.
Not easy to commit to.
Just easy to access.
I was the message he could send without guilt.
The soft place he could land when the world got too hard.
The person he knew would pick up the phone, even if my heart was still broken from the last time.
And I hate that I let him.
It's been five days since I blocked his number.
No calls.
No texts.
No more wondering if I'd say yes.
And for the first time in years, I feel… quiet inside.
Not peaceful yet. But less chaotic.
I no longer jump when my phone buzzes.
I no longer reread old messages, looking for meaning.
I no longer wait for a man who only reaches out when it's convenient.
Sasha and I met up that afternoon at her place. She opened the door with her hair up in a pineapple bun, wearing a bright yellow hoodie and leggings.
"Girl," she said, pulling me into a hug, "you look like someone who just burned a bridge and lit a candle on top of it."
"Maybe I did," I smiled.
"Good. You needed to."
Her place smelled like fresh cookies and vanilla lotion. She handed me a glass of juice and flopped onto the couch next to me.
"So how's the no Jayden life treating you?" she asked.
"Weird," I admitted. "But also… right."
"Weird is good. That's the space where healing starts."
"It's like I finally realize I was chasing a ghost," I said quietly. "Someone who only showed up when he felt like it."
Sasha nodded.
"Girl, that man didn't love you. He loved access. He loved knowing he could reach you anytime no effort, no respect, no real commitment."
I sighed, because I knew it was true.
"Do you think I was weak?" I asked her. "For answering. For letting him back so many times?"
She turned to face me, serious now.
"No. I think you were hopeful. And hopeful people are the strongest ones. You just hoped for the wrong person."
That night, I lay in bed thinking about that word: access.
Jayden didn't treat me like a treasure. He treated me like a vending machine. Push a button, get comfort. No investment needed.
And I kept giving.
Because I believed love meant giving until it worked.
But I'm learning that real love doesn't just take.
Real love gives back.
It shows up. It shows care. It doesn't make you beg.
The next morning, I got an email.
It was from a small freelance design studio I'd applied to months ago.
Subject: Ava, We Loved Your Portfolio Let's Talk!
My heart skipped.
I opened it quickly, scanning the words:
"Hi Ava,
We recently came across your work again and were really impressed. We'd love to set up a call to discuss a possible project collaboration…"
It was a spark. A small reminder that life existed outside of Jayden.
That I had dreams. Skills. A future.
That maybe this season wasn't about love at all.
Maybe it was about reclaiming myself.
I called Sasha immediately.
"Guess who just got a possible design gig!"
"You did!" she yelled. "Okay, the universe is starting to respond to your boundaries, girl!"
"I almost forgot I even applied," I laughed. "But this feels… right."
"Because it's you," she said. "Not you waiting. Not you chasing. Just you showing up for yourself."
I spent the rest of the day updating my portfolio, answering emails, and even reorganizing my room.
I packed away an old box of "Jayden things" pictures, little gifts, letters I never sent.
It was time.
I tied the box shut and wrote on top of it in black marker:
"Was."
Because that version of me the one who answered every midnight text was gone.
I'm not her anymore.
That night, I had a dream.
I was standing in the rain, waiting at a bus stop. No umbrella. Just me, soaked and shivering. People passed, but no one stopped.
Then someone came tall, calm, kind eyes. He handed me his umbrella and stood next to me. Not in front, not behind. Just beside me.
He didn't ask where I was going.
He just stood there, steady.
When I woke up, I didn't remember his face just the feeling.
Warmth. Safety. Presence.
And I realized something:
Jayden never made me feel safe.
He made me feel wanted… sometimes.
But never safe. Never sure. Never seen.
Maybe that's why I stayed so long.
I confused attention with care.
I thought availability meant value.
But I was wrong.
Being easy to reach is not the same as being truly loved.
And now, I want more.
I want calls that don't come at midnight.
I want plans that are kept.
I want love that knocks during daylight, not just when the night feels empty.
So here's what I've decided:
I won't respond to breadcrumbs.
I won't chase anyone who dropped me.
I won't give access to people who misuse it.
My heart is not a public space anymore.
It's a garden.
And I'm learning to protect what grows here.
As I lit my candle and curled up with my favorite book, I whispered something out loud not to anyone in particular. Just to myself.
"I deserve more than this."
And this time… I believed it.
If someone wants access to me now,
they'll have to bring peace not confusion.