There’s someone in my life who has taught me a complicated truth: not everyone who touches your heart is meant to stay forever, but some leave an imprint you can’t erase.

I’ve tried to walk away more times than I can count. I’ve written long goodbyes, sworn I was done, and told myself I deserve more. And yet, he always finds his way back—sometimes with a laugh, sometimes with a hug within those big muscular arms and sometimes with nothing more than a simple check-in when I least expect it.

What makes it hard is that he doesn’t judge me. Not for my messy moments, not for my broken past, not for the nights I’ve unraveled. He sees me—not just the woman who’s been through betrayal and heartbreak, but the girl I was before life broke me. The girl who shows up, who drives miles just to care, who notices the little things, who still believes in tenderness. And he appreciates her.

We can hold hands and watch a movie, knowing that tomorrow I’ll leave and won’t hear from him, but also knowing that someday, somehow, we’ll connect again. When he hugs me, it’s always so tight, like he missed me in all the quiet weeks we were apart, like he wants to memorize my curves just in case it’s the last time. And maybe that’s why, even when I accuse him of having a rotation of women, he finds it so ridiculous he has to come back with an even more ridiculous joke, as though humor is the only way he knows to soften my doubt.

He listens to me. He actually cherishes my opinions—whether I’m teasing him about his new beard or speaking about life, love, or positivity. He asks for my perspective in a way that reminds me I matter. And as much as I try to disassociate, to harden my heart, to convince myself that what we have is fleeting—I can’t help but be enamored. Because what we share is something most people never find: the ability to see each other beyond the facades we wear for the rest of the world.

It’s impossible to hate someone who meets you in that space. Someone who, even if they can’t give you everything, refuses to reduce you to your mistakes. There’s a sensitive part of his heart that keeps him tethered to me, and maybe a sensitive part of mine that can’t quite let him go. I yearn for his touch everyday and battle with my pride to reach for my phone. Yet on those days when my want for him overtakes my sanity, and I see the three dots appear within seconds after I hit send, the butterflies in my heart fluttery in full speed.

What we have isn’t perfect. It isn’t forever. But it is real. And maybe, for now, that’s enough. My sweet Mon Cherie.