I’ve always believed that life has a way of testing us—sometimes in the hardest, most heartbreaking ways. I once read about a woman who carried her baby through impossible odds, and what struck me most wasn’t just her strength, but the way she was surrounded by people who refused to let her walk alone. Friends prayed. Strangers wrote letters. A whole community carried her through the darkest nights.
And it made me realize something about myself: I don’t want to face life alone anymore.
For so long, I told myself I was fine on my own. I built walls. I convinced myself that love was too complicated, too risky, too uncertain. But deep down, I’ve always longed for that one person—the one who stays, the one who chooses me, the one who shares both the heartbreaks and the miracles.
I don’t expect perfection. I don’t even expect things to always go smoothly. What I hope for is someone who will hold my hand when the world feels unbearable, someone who believes with me when I can’t believe for myself. I want to be that person for him too—to pray for him, to fight for him, to stand in the waiting room of his hardest battles and remind him he’s not alone.
Because love, to me, isn’t just about romance. It’s about presence. It’s about the quiet strength of knowing someone has your back, no matter how heavy life gets.
And maybe—just maybe—somewhere out there is a man who feels the same way. Someone who wants a relationship built not just on passion, but on partnership. Someone who believes, like I do, that the most beautiful kind of love is the kind that makes both people stronger.
Until then, I’ll keep my heart open. Because even in the hardest stories, I’ve learned that miracles can still happen.
Don’t miss out — create your own account for unlimited access
