It’s strange how someone’s absence can still fill a room. I remember sitting by my window late at night, phone in hand, staring at a chat that hadn’t been active in weeks. I kept scrolling through our old messages, laughing at jokes that didn’t feel funny anymore, reading the goodnight texts that used to make me smile. I missed them so much it felt like a physical ache — a quiet, constant pull in my chest.

I told myself it was love. That missing someone meant I should fight harder for them. I replayed memories like they were proof that what we had was worth saving — the late-night drives, the shared secrets, the way their laughter made everything lighter. But when I finally saw them again, something felt different. Familiar, yet foreign. Like visiting a childhood home that had been repainted and rearranged — it looked the same, but it didn’t feel like mine anymore.

That’s when it hit me: I didn’t miss them anymore. I missed how I felt when they were around — safe, wanted, seen. I missed the version of me that believed everything would work out just because it felt right. But people change. And sometimes, the person you’re holding onto doesn’t exist in the same way anymore.

It took months to let go. Not of them, but of the idea of them — the story I had written in my head. I had to accept that missing someone doesn’t mean they’re meant for you. It just means they mattered. They played their part in your life, and now the scene has ended.

Now, when I think about them, I don’t feel anger or pain — just peace. Because I finally understand that the person I missed so badly wasn’t the one I needed. They were part of my journey, but not my destination.

Sometimes, what feels like loss is really just life making room for better things. And that’s the quiet truth about love — not everyone you miss is meant to return. Some are meant to teach you what you deserve, and then leave so you can find it.