In the vibrant heart of Ontario, lived a spirited girl, with a dark, expressive eyes and a heart full of dreams, she immersed herself in her studies while including in her passion for poetry. Her life was simple, yet filled with humor, small adventures, and a lot of optimism. But recently, everything has changed..
My name is Ava, and I�ve spent the last five years trying to understand something that�s always been so simple to other people. Love. It seems so effortless for everyone else, like it just happens, like it�s a given. But for me, it�s a puzzle; complicated and tangled, and no one really understands why.
I met Jeremy when I was fourteen. It started with a simple, innocent conversation about characters and plots in an online chat room for book lovers. At the time, I didn�t know how important he would become to me. Jeremy was from Manhattan, a world away from my life in a quiet town. But in the virtual space where we talked, distance didn�t matter.
At first, our connection was purely casual. We shared book recommendations, laughed at each favorite characters, and argued over whose protagonist was stronger. But over the months, those conversations deepened. Jeremy was the kind of person who could talk about anything and make it meaningful. He respected me, always listened, and he was patient in a way that was rare. I found myself looking forward to his messages like a secret, a part of my day that belonged only to me.
I remember the time I realized I was in love with him. It wasn�t a grand moment. It wasn�t a dramatic confession or a candlelit declaration. It was when I realized that every morning, I wanted to hear his voice before anyone else�s and read his texts before anyone else�s. It was when I realized that I thought about him more than anyone else, even though we had never met in person. We had never even held hands or shared a real hug.
But the love was real. It was the kind of love that made me feel seen, like I could be myself without judgment.
We talked about everything; our families, friends, dreams, likes, dislikes, hobbies, literally everything. He told me about his life in Manhattan, how his Christian faith had shaped him. And I told him about my life, and how Islam had shaped me - how it was the foundation of everything I did.
We were so different in so many ways, and yet, we were so similar. We both believed deeply in our faith, but we were willing to love each other without trying to change the other person. At least, that�s how it felt.
The distance was hard, We spent years separated by deserts, countries, and time zones. We spoke through messages, video calls, the occasional phone call when we could make the time. But somehow, it worked. It was as if love could thrive even through the distance, as if the miles between us didn�t matter.
But then came the day where the distance between us wasn�t just physical. It became spiritual.
We had always known that our religions were different - that I was a Muslim and he was a Christian - but we never let that difference define us. It didn�t feel like a wall. It felt like a part of the beauty of our connection.
But one day Jeremy asked me something I didn�t expect, something that I had always feared would eventually come up.
We were on a call, it was normal, but then:
"Ava", he said, his voice soft but serious, "Do you ever think...you could convert to Christianity?"
His question hung in the air, making everything feel suddenly fragile. I could feel my heart drop, a heavy weight setting in my chest.
I knew what he meant. He wasn�t asking out of selfishness, but because of what he believed. He believed that in order to be together in the way he wanted - Truly, fully together - our religions had to align. He had always been open to be the differences between us, but now it seemed that those differences were starting to matter more than the love we shared.
I had always known that my religion was something I could never compromise on, but hearing him ask made the reality of that truth more painful than I had imagined.
"I can�t, Jeremy" I said, my voice trembling. "I love you, but I can�t give up my faith. Islam is who I am. I can�t turn my back on it."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could almost hear him processing my words, trying to understand, trying to find a way that we could make this work.
"I don�t want you to change, Ava." He said, his voice quiet. "But I think that if we�re going to build a future together, we need to be on the same page. I�ve always believed that a couple should share the same faith, the same beliefs. It�s how you build a life, a family. I can�t ask you to change who you are, but I also can�t see a way forward if we don�t have that common ground."
It wasn�t his fault. He wasn�t being unreasonable. He wasn�t trying to force me to change. But it was like we had come to the end of a road where love was no longer enough. Our faiths - our most fundamental beliefs - were two paths that didn�t converge. And I knew, deep down, that our love wasn�t strong enough to overcome that divide.
I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, and my heart felt like it was being torn in two. I loved him so much. More than I could put into words. But I knew I had to make a choice, and that choice wasn�t about love. It was about who I was, what I could never give up.
"I think?" my voice breaks as I spoke. "I think we need to let go, Jeremy."
There was silence on the other end. And in that silence, I could hear everything that wasn�t being said. The hurt, the confusion, and the heartbreak.
"I don�t want to lose you." Jeremy said finally, his voice quiet and raw. "I don�t want this to end. You�re everything to me, Ava. I can�t imagine my life without you,"
"I love you," I whispered, my heart breaking with every word. "But I can�t give up my religion. I can�t live in a way that isn�t true to who I am."
The words felt final, like I was closing a door that could never be opened again. And as much as I wanted to reach across the screen and tell him that maybe we could try again, maybe we could find a way - it wasn�t possible. Not when our hearts were so bound to different beliefs. Not when we couldn�t even share the most basic part of ourselves with each other.
The message I sent was brief, but it carried everything:
---
Jeremy, I love you more than I ever thought possible, but I can�t choose anything over my faith. You deserve someone who shares your beliefs fully, who can stand with you in the way you need. I will always love you, but I think it�s time we let go.
---
When I hit "send", it felt like everything inside me crumbled. The silence in my room was deafening, and I could feel the weight of my decision pressing down on me. This was the hardest thing I had ever done. But deep down, I knew I had made the right choice.
I couldn�t turn my back on what I believed in, no matter how much I loved him.
Jeremy didn�t reply immediately. And when he did, it was a message that broke my heart all over again:
---
I understand, Ava. I always will. I just wish we had more time.
---
Yes, it wasn�t his fault, it wasn�t anyone�s fault. It was just the way life worked sometimes, and the way love worked sometimes. You could love someone more than anything, but the world had a way of making things complicated.
That night, I went to bed with tears in my eyes. I could hear Jeremy�s voice in my mind, replaying his words over and over. And I knew what we had was beautiful, but it wasn�t enough. Not anymore. I cried myself to sleep, knowing I had lost him. But I also knew that some losses were necessary. My religion was a part of me, and in the end, I had to choose what was true to who I am.
Love isn�t always enough. Sometimes, you have to choose the path that feels right, even when it means walking away from the one you love.
It�s funny, isn�t it? How love can feel so powerful, so infinite - and yet, still not be enough to keep two people together when the world pulls them in opposite directions.
But what do you do when love isn�t enough?
I don�t know.
END__
My name is Ava, and I�ve spent the last five years trying to understand something that�s always been so simple to other people. Love. It seems so effortless for everyone else, like it just happens, like it�s a given. But for me, it�s a puzzle; complicated and tangled, and no one really understands why.
I met Jeremy when I was fourteen. It started with a simple, innocent conversation about characters and plots in an online chat room for book lovers. At the time, I didn�t know how important he would become to me. Jeremy was from Manhattan, a world away from my life in a quiet town. But in the virtual space where we talked, distance didn�t matter.
At first, our connection was purely casual. We shared book recommendations, laughed at each favorite characters, and argued over whose protagonist was stronger. But over the months, those conversations deepened. Jeremy was the kind of person who could talk about anything and make it meaningful. He respected me, always listened, and he was patient in a way that was rare. I found myself looking forward to his messages like a secret, a part of my day that belonged only to me.
I remember the time I realized I was in love with him. It wasn�t a grand moment. It wasn�t a dramatic confession or a candlelit declaration. It was when I realized that every morning, I wanted to hear his voice before anyone else�s and read his texts before anyone else�s. It was when I realized that I thought about him more than anyone else, even though we had never met in person. We had never even held hands or shared a real hug.
But the love was real. It was the kind of love that made me feel seen, like I could be myself without judgment.
We talked about everything; our families, friends, dreams, likes, dislikes, hobbies, literally everything. He told me about his life in Manhattan, how his Christian faith had shaped him. And I told him about my life, and how Islam had shaped me - how it was the foundation of everything I did.
We were so different in so many ways, and yet, we were so similar. We both believed deeply in our faith, but we were willing to love each other without trying to change the other person. At least, that�s how it felt.
The distance was hard, We spent years separated by deserts, countries, and time zones. We spoke through messages, video calls, the occasional phone call when we could make the time. But somehow, it worked. It was as if love could thrive even through the distance, as if the miles between us didn�t matter.
But then came the day where the distance between us wasn�t just physical. It became spiritual.
We had always known that our religions were different - that I was a Muslim and he was a Christian - but we never let that difference define us. It didn�t feel like a wall. It felt like a part of the beauty of our connection.
But one day Jeremy asked me something I didn�t expect, something that I had always feared would eventually come up.
We were on a call, it was normal, but then:
"Ava", he said, his voice soft but serious, "Do you ever think...you could convert to Christianity?"
His question hung in the air, making everything feel suddenly fragile. I could feel my heart drop, a heavy weight setting in my chest.
I knew what he meant. He wasn�t asking out of selfishness, but because of what he believed. He believed that in order to be together in the way he wanted - Truly, fully together - our religions had to align. He had always been open to be the differences between us, but now it seemed that those differences were starting to matter more than the love we shared.
I had always known that my religion was something I could never compromise on, but hearing him ask made the reality of that truth more painful than I had imagined.
"I can�t, Jeremy" I said, my voice trembling. "I love you, but I can�t give up my faith. Islam is who I am. I can�t turn my back on it."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could almost hear him processing my words, trying to understand, trying to find a way that we could make this work.
"I don�t want you to change, Ava." He said, his voice quiet. "But I think that if we�re going to build a future together, we need to be on the same page. I�ve always believed that a couple should share the same faith, the same beliefs. It�s how you build a life, a family. I can�t ask you to change who you are, but I also can�t see a way forward if we don�t have that common ground."
It wasn�t his fault. He wasn�t being unreasonable. He wasn�t trying to force me to change. But it was like we had come to the end of a road where love was no longer enough. Our faiths - our most fundamental beliefs - were two paths that didn�t converge. And I knew, deep down, that our love wasn�t strong enough to overcome that divide.
I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, and my heart felt like it was being torn in two. I loved him so much. More than I could put into words. But I knew I had to make a choice, and that choice wasn�t about love. It was about who I was, what I could never give up.
"I think?" my voice breaks as I spoke. "I think we need to let go, Jeremy."
There was silence on the other end. And in that silence, I could hear everything that wasn�t being said. The hurt, the confusion, and the heartbreak.
"I don�t want to lose you." Jeremy said finally, his voice quiet and raw. "I don�t want this to end. You�re everything to me, Ava. I can�t imagine my life without you,"
"I love you," I whispered, my heart breaking with every word. "But I can�t give up my religion. I can�t live in a way that isn�t true to who I am."
The words felt final, like I was closing a door that could never be opened again. And as much as I wanted to reach across the screen and tell him that maybe we could try again, maybe we could find a way - it wasn�t possible. Not when our hearts were so bound to different beliefs. Not when we couldn�t even share the most basic part of ourselves with each other.
The message I sent was brief, but it carried everything:
---
Jeremy, I love you more than I ever thought possible, but I can�t choose anything over my faith. You deserve someone who shares your beliefs fully, who can stand with you in the way you need. I will always love you, but I think it�s time we let go.
---
When I hit "send", it felt like everything inside me crumbled. The silence in my room was deafening, and I could feel the weight of my decision pressing down on me. This was the hardest thing I had ever done. But deep down, I knew I had made the right choice.
I couldn�t turn my back on what I believed in, no matter how much I loved him.
Jeremy didn�t reply immediately. And when he did, it was a message that broke my heart all over again:
---
I understand, Ava. I always will. I just wish we had more time.
---
Yes, it wasn�t his fault, it wasn�t anyone�s fault. It was just the way life worked sometimes, and the way love worked sometimes. You could love someone more than anything, but the world had a way of making things complicated.
That night, I went to bed with tears in my eyes. I could hear Jeremy�s voice in my mind, replaying his words over and over. And I knew what we had was beautiful, but it wasn�t enough. Not anymore. I cried myself to sleep, knowing I had lost him. But I also knew that some losses were necessary. My religion was a part of me, and in the end, I had to choose what was true to who I am.
Love isn�t always enough. Sometimes, you have to choose the path that feels right, even when it means walking away from the one you love.
It�s funny, isn�t it? How love can feel so powerful, so infinite - and yet, still not be enough to keep two people together when the world pulls them in opposite directions.
But what do you do when love isn�t enough?
I don�t know.
END__
Support Aya Haida
