Because some people, when you tell them about a dream...
immediately start looking for problems.
He looked for solutions.
And that difference...
can change a life.
Because sometimes you start believing in yourself...
after someone else believes in you first.
We worked together.
And working with the person you love can be dangerously beautiful.
Because you start dreaming while wide awake.
One business.
Then another.
And then one more.
And before you know it...
you're no longer making plans.
You're building a life.
I stopped saying my projects.
I started saying our projects.
Even that word changed.
Ours.
Such a beautiful word...
and such a dangerous one.
Because when we disappears...
you have to learn how to conjugate your whole life in the singular again.
And let me tell you...
that is one hell of a difficult subject.
He had a hard childhood.
Life hadn't been kind to him either.
Maybe that's why he understood my scars so well.
I never felt judged by him.
Not for my past.
Not for my mistakes.
Not even for my madness.
And believe me...
I gave people plenty of material to work with.
But he never made me feel less than.
Quite the opposite.
He made me feel admired.
Respected.
Heard.
And you have no idea how addictive it can be...
to be truly listened to.
Not by someone waiting for their turn to speak.
But by someone actually listening.
I think that was the most beautiful thing we had.
The friendship.
Before we were a couple...
we were a team.
We laughed constantly.
We teased each other.
We bullied each other with affection.
We even made fun of ourselves.
And maybe that's why I never felt like I had to perform.
With him, I didn't have to pretend to be the perfect woman.
Thank God.
Maintaining a character twenty-four hours a day sounds exhausting.
With him, I could be the messy-haired Yenny.
The one who swore.
The one who fought with the computer.
The one who laughed alone.
The one who cried one day...
and made jokes about the same tragedy the next.
In other words...
me.
And that felt wonderful.
Someone once asked me,
"What did you see in him?"
And I had to think about it.
Because the answer was never simple.
It wasn't his looks.
It wasn't money.
Money comes and goes.
It wasn't New York.
The trips.
The ring.
It was something much simpler.
With him...
I could rest.
And only people who have spent years surviving truly understand what that means.
There comes a point when you're no longer searching for excitement.
You're searching for peace.
And I had found it.
That's why losing it hurt so much.
I didn't only lose a man.
I lost the one place where my mind finally stopped racing.
If you asked me today whether I'd live that story again, knowing how it ended...
my answer would probably surprise you.
Yes.
A thousand times, yes.
Because even though the ending shattered me...
the journey introduced me to a version of myself I had never known.
And for the chance to meet that woman...
I'd pay the price again.
Without hesitation.
Because with him, I learned something nobody had ever taught me.
Love doesn't always arrive to last forever.
Sometimes...
it arrives to bring you back to life.
And once it has fulfilled that purpose...
even if it leaves...
it has already left a mark no one can erase.
I was happy.
It was that simple.
I wasn't suspicious.
I wasn't waiting for disaster.
I didn't feel the relationship fading.
Nothing like that.
One day...
I had a future.
The next...
I had questions.
It happened that fast.
Sharp.
Cold.
Like a door slamming before you even realize someone was about to close it.
Then the rumors started.
The lies.
Other people's voices forcing their way into a place they never belonged.
And he chose to believe them.
That was what broke me the most.
Not that people talked about me.
People talk.
That's nothing new.
What destroyed me was that he trusted a version of me told by strangers...
more than he trusted the woman he'd already built a future with.
There was no conversation.
No confrontation.
Not even a simple,
"Explain this to me."
Nothing.
He just disappeared.
And that was the cruelest part.
I wasn't allowed to defend myself.
I wasn't allowed to speak.
I wasn't allowed to have closure.
I was left alone...
holding a broken story in my hands.
And two wedding rings that, overnight...
meant absolutely nothing.
But listen...
you do heal.
Not overnight.
Not because of some pretty quote on Facebook.
And definitely not because someone tells you,
"Just get over it."
God, I hated that sentence.
You heal when you can.
When your soul finally stops bleeding.
And that doesn't follow a schedule.
I made a complete fool of myself.
A spectacular one.
I cried.
Begged.
Insisted.
Waited.
Humiliated myself.
Invented entire movies in my head.
Asked questions that still don't have answers.
And you know what?
I'm not ashamed.
I was in love.
And when you truly love someone...
you do things that look ridiculous from the outside.
Until one day...
the people judging you have to live through it themselves.
Then suddenly...
their speech changes.
Over time, I realized that the goal wasn't to stop loving him.
The goal was to stop suffering.
Those are two very different things.
There are people you may always love.
But you no longer need them in order to be happy.
And that difference...
can save your life.
I don't need anyone to rescue me anymore.
Never again.
I don't need anyone to complete me either.
Life taught me that people arrive.
People leave.
And you have two choices.
You can spend the rest of your life living inside the memory...
or you can build a life where happiness still has room to exist without them.
I chose the second.
And it has been one of the best decisions I've ever made.
Today, I don't want another relationship.
Not because I stopped believing in love.
But because, for the first time in my life...
I'm building something beautiful with the only person I'll live with until my final day.
Myself.
And honestly...
I really like that woman.
Part 13
A Bed, a Clear Conscience... and No Regrets
After everything you've just read...
do you know what the craziest part is?
I believed in love again.
Yep.
That's how ridiculously hopeful I am.
And you know what?
I don't regret it.
Because I'd rather have my heart broken a thousand times...
than spend my life too afraid to ever give it away.
I lived.
I made mistakes.
I loved good men.
I loved men I never should have loved.
Some loved me well.
Some lied to me.
I lied too.
I betrayed.
I was betrayed.
I made people laugh.
I cried.
I made other people cry.
And yes...
I made a complete fool of myself.
The deluxe edition.
Trust me.
I survived.
And in the end...
that's the only thing that really matters.
I don't need to convince anyone that I was a good woman.
Or a bad one.
I was simply...
a woman.
And that's enough.
Because life isn't meant to be lived so you'll look good in someone else's memories.
It's meant to be lived so you can sleep peacefully with your own.
If someone finishes this chapter thinking,
"Damn... this woman is crazy."
They're probably right.
If they think,
"She's intense."
Absolutely.
If they think,
"Honestly... I probably would've done the same thing."
Welcome to the club.
Around here...
we hand out tissues.
And every now and then...
we hand back a little bit of the dignity life stole from us.
I look at the Yenny who used to cry over men who were already gone...
and I don't feel embarrassed anymore.
I feel tenderness.
Because she did the only thing she knew how to do.
She loved.
Sometimes badly.
Sometimes beautifully.
But always...
for real.
And that...
will never be a flaw.
So yes...
people called me crazy.
A witch.
Promiscuous.
Toxic.
A slut.
And tomorrow...
they'll probably invent a brand-new label.
Honestly...
I'm too tired to keep collecting them.
I'm busy living.
Because I learned that lesson much later than I should have.
Life doesn't reward the people who feel less.
In the end...
life embraces the ones who, despite everything...
still have the courage to feel.
And me?
After four men...
Four goodbyes.
Four completely different definitions of love...
I'm still here.
I still laugh.
I still cry.
I still believe.
And most importantly...
I'm still me.
Now that's a dangerous woman.
And honestly...
I wouldn't have it any other way.
*
I was never the perfect woman.
But damn...
what a beautiful way to live—
never asking life for permission.