To the winters that are bitter cold.

 

James and I decided to end things,

three weeks into dating.

 

He sent me a text,

asked if I could come over for a chat.

It sounded serious,

and I had a feeling something like this was coming.

So I showed up.

And sure enough—he said that even though he enjoyed dating me these last three weeks,

he didn’t feel any romantic attraction,

and he thinks we should stop seeing each other.

 

To be honest,

it did come as a surprise.

Sure, I didn’t feel a strong romantic connection either,

but I always figured this was one of those slow burn types of love—

the kind where you slowly get to know each other over time,

where love happens organically,

not the love-at-first-sight kind,

or the kind that keeps the spark raging through the honeymoon period.

 

But I guess,

I was wrong.

 

I told him how grateful I was,

for him being a beautiful chapter in my life.

And we parted ways

with grace.

 

At home, in bed,

I am thinking about the chapters that are closing in my life.

 

The chapter I had working with Michelin.

The chapter with my massage course.

And now,

the chapter closing with James.

 

It makes me feel like I’m standing in the rubble

of everything

coming down.

And I look around me,

and behind me—

I’m not alone in this.

Because behind me are my friends.

My family.

All there

to support me.

 

And Michelin?

Always welcoming me back with open arms

if I ever choose to take that route again.

 

I look at all the crumbling towers in front of me,

the chapters that have closed—

and all I see

are opportunities

for bigger, better structures.

 

And it fills me with excitement.

Because I have no idea

where this next chapter will lead.

 

Winter is coming for me.

It’s a season of life that’s full of hardship—

but that’s also

where I thrive.

 

So I’m looking forward into the future.

Not with sadness.

Not with despair.

But with excitement.

And because I’m human,

a little bit of nervousness too.