The roller coaster didn’t collapse in flames.
There was no dramatic confrontation.
No final shouting match.
It simply… wore her out.
At the beginning, it had felt like something extraordinary. The late-night conversations, the shared laughter, the moments that made her believe she had finally found something real. Each emotional high felt like flying, like she was chosen, seen, wanted.
But the drops were sharper than she admitted.
Silences stretched longer than they should have. Affection came in waves, present one moment, withdrawn the next. She kept adjusting herself to survive the ride. Maybe she was asking for too much. Maybe she needed to be more patient. Maybe love required endurance.
So she endured.
What she didn’t realise was that endurance was slowly turning into erosion. Piece by piece, her peace was slipping away. She became anxious over small changes in tone. She overanalysed pauses. She learned how to accept less, just to keep something.
Because something felt better than nothing.
Until it didn’t.
One evening, sitting alone in the quiet, she noticed something unfamiliar, stillness inside her chest. No racing thoughts. No desperate hope. Just a steady awareness.
She was tired.
Not the kind of tired sleep could fix. The kind of tired that comes from constantly hoping someone will become what they’ve never shown themselves to be.
And then the truth settled in, gently but firmly:
She did not want him in her life anymore.
Not as a partner.
Not as a friend.
Not even as a “maybe someday.”
It wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t revenge.
It was clarity.
She realised she had been afraid of losing him. But somewhere along the way, she had started losing herself instead, her confidence, her emotional stability, and her quiet joy.
And that loss frightened her more.
The decision didn’t need noise. It didn’t need drama. It needed courage.
So she chose peace. She chose certainty. She chose to step off the ride.
When she finally closed that chapter, there were no fireworks. No tears falling dramatically onto her phone screen.
There was just a breath.
Deep, steady and free.
The roller coaster stopped that day, not because the ride changed, but because she did.
And sometimes, the strongest thing a heart can do is decide that enough is enough.
