From Broken to Blessed: Turning Point

The phone rang again—it was a move I had grown all too familiar with. Steven never respected boundaries, even when I made it clear I was done. But this time, I knew I couldn’t fall back into that cycle. Something had shifted in me—there was no going back.

From Broken to Blessed: Turning Point

Meeting Devin felt like a breath of fresh air after the emotional whirlwind with Steven. Devin wasn’t what I was used to—he was calm, kind, and grounded. We first crossed paths at a baseball game. I was there on a date with David, but something about Devin drew me in. My roommate leaned in and whispered, “That’s the guy I told you about.” His quiet presence was the opposite of the chaotic energy I’d known.

After the game, we went to the lake. Devin didn’t swim, but he kept his eyes on me all night. The next day, his roommate confirmed my suspicions—Devin was interested. Soon after, he called late one night and asked me out. I was exhausted but said, “If you want to take me out, the answer is yes.”

Our first date was magical—dinner by the water, dancing under the stars, fireworks lighting up the sky. It was everything I could dream of, but I didn’t feel the fiery spark I expected. With Devin, there was no reckless passion—just comfort. I liked him as a person, and that felt new and safe. Maybe this was what I needed.

Everyone in my life adored Devin. My mother said, “This is the kind of man you build a life with.” I wanted to believe she was right, but a small voice inside me whispered that something was missing. I told my mother, “I care about him, but there are no sparks.” She replied, “Love grows. What you think is love might just be lust.” I held on to that thought, hoping passion and love would align.

Then Steven came back into my life. He was everything Devin wasn’t—intense, unpredictable, magnetic. Even though I’d chosen Devin, I couldn’t resist Steven’s pull. I found myself secretly meeting him again, knowing I was supposed to be moving to California to start fresh.

The longest I went without seeing Steven was six weeks. I told myself if I could survive that, I could move on for good. But he had a way of luring me back when I thought I was free. I mistook our chemistry for love, but deep down, I knew we were too different.

On our last day together, I met Steven at a café in Harvard Square for closure. He didn’t even know I’d moved out for good. As I walked away, tears streamed down my face. I knew it wasn’t love—it was lust, as everyone close to me had said. Our relationship had always been about the physical connection, nothing deeper. Staying with him would only drag me further from my goals.

Steven once admitted, “I can’t offer you what Devin can.” His honesty cut deep, but it brought clarity. Even his mother said, “You’re too sweet for my son. Stay with Devin.” If his own mother thought I deserved better, I knew I’d made the right decision.

Moving to California wasn’t just about leaving Steven—it was about choosing peace over passion. With Devin, I found stability. I liked him as a person, and over time, I grew to love him. Now I understand what my mother meant when she said love can grow. She was right—love can grow, but you can’t grow in love with someone.

For years, I wanted both—a love that was safe and passionate. But life doesn’t always work that way. While it took me five years to fully get over Steven, I know now that choosing Devin wasn’t settling—it was choosing the life I deserved.

I was over Steven, I knew that much. But when I saw couples truly in love—holding hands, stealing kisses—I felt a pang of envy. I wanted that too, a love that felt effortless yet deeply felt. I shook the thought, reminding myself that I’d chosen stability over sparks.

As I walked back to my shop, a quiet question lingered: could I ever truly put that desire out of my heart, or would it always flicker just beneath the surface?