I was in the middle of my divorce when I met him. Still hurt by my now ex-husband, and the last thing on my mind was meeting someone new.

We worked together during a two-month event, and from the very first moment I met him, I felt a connection. Unexplainably, I knew he felt it too. But I was still married – almost divorced, but still married. No one knew my relationship status because I was new at the company, and it was a part of me I kept to myself.

He met me at a time when I was finally in a relatively happy, content place – slowly learning to be myself again. It hadn’t been easy. I was still navigating the pain of my divorce, but I had begun to heal. Back then, I believed someone could only be drawn to me because I appeared completely at peace, whole on the outside. I told myself there was no way my feelings for him were just emotions feeding off my newfound happiness. But the truth is, I was in denial.

For a while, he made subtle hints at his interest, and as much as I looked forward to seeing him each day, I kept our interactions brief. I avoided him, honestly. Our small talk never stretched beyond a “hi, how are you.” Eventually, the dynamic shifted – it was obvious to me he became unsure of my feelings, and our exchanges turned into shy glances and complete awkwardness.

But no matter how hard I tried to ignore the magnetic pull between us, my guard finally dropped the day I saw THE look.

It wasn’t a glance anymore – it was a moment. One where he didn’t look away. Instead, he held his gaze, his eyes softened, and a small smile appeared. Every butterfly in the world found its way into my body, and without meaning to, I gave him the same gesture back.

In a place full of noise and people, our eyes only saw each other. And in that moment, without saying a word, it felt like everything was being said.

It became the beginning of more short, but meaningful, conversations. We talked about life, dreams, and the quirks in the family traditions we both grew up with. I know he felt something. And I know he knew I did too. But neither of us found the courage to say a word. I think he was scared to say anything after I’d distanced myself. And I? I was in a complicated space. I didn’t want my feelings to cause harm, and I was afraid my emotional baggage might scare him away.

By the time I finally decided I was ready to tell him everything, it was Christmas Eve. We said our goodbyes, smiled, and wished each other a quiet “Merry Christmas” before I headed out. On the drive home that night, with the streets mostly empty and lights glowing softly in windows, I made up my mind – I would finally tell him how I felt when we returned in two days; and if he would be open to waiting a couple months until I settled my divorce. But I never saw him again.

As devastated as I was, I told myself that maybe the timing just wasn’t right. That I needed to settle my divorce first, give life a little room to shift, and then fate would work its magic – we’d see each other at the next event. For an entire year, I held onto that hope. A year of quiet yearning, of building anticipation and excitement around the thought of seeing him again.

But fate had other plans – he wasn’t there.

Now, I often think of that missed opportunity. A deep connection formed in a short time. Unexpected, but real. A love story that could have been – if only time had been a little kinder.

Maybe someday, we’ll meet again.