Foreign Affairs Vol. 4 (Part I): Almost Mine

The kind of love that lingers... even when you leave.

He handed me my keys like he hadn’t held my heart for three years.

Quick exchange. No lingering looks. No drawn out goodbyes.

Just “I know… but that wasn’t the goal.”

Y’all, this one is tough to write.

But I promised honesty — a full look into my in-between chapter.

And there is no in-between chapter without Mr. Almost.

We met the way you meet someone when the night’s a little too loud and you’ve had just enough tequila to forget your filter.

Back in 2022, I was standing in a crowded bar in Music City’s Midtown, eyes locked on this guy across the room—tall, confident, the kind of handsome that makes you forget what you were saying.

One of my friends caught me zoning out and said, “Hellooooo? Earth to Anna. Do you know him?”
I said no.
He said, “Do you want to?”
I said no again—but five minutes later, he tapped me on the shoulder.

“Your friend said you wanted to say something to me?”
Mortified, I just laughed and said, “Well, I didn’t... but I do think you’re really handsome. I’m Anna. Can I get you a drink?”
And he grinned and said, “No you may not. But I’ll buy you one. What are you drinking?”

And just like that, I knew I was in trouble.

---

We started hanging out 3–4 times a week.
We had similar goals. Similar outlooks on life. Similar values.
And I was incredibly attracted to him.

This man was fiiiiine.

But he was more than that.

He was a business owner. Driven. Fit. Kind. A family man. A man of God.
Everything I’d ever wanted.

And the more time we spent together, the more I realized:
I could never just be this guy’s friend.

That level didn’t exist for us—because I’d only ever be able to see him as a partner.
As someone I’d build a life with.

But what we’d started was so unintentional, so casual, so effortless…
We never put any kind of pressure on it.

We filled a void in each other’s lives for a long time.

And I know that sounds absolutely insane.

But you know exactly what I’m talking about:

When you start spending so much time with someone...

You build the emotional intimacy without the safety of commitment.
You visualize the future without the promise of tomorrow.
You love the man without ever saying the words.

Because in the moment, it feels safe.
Until it doesn’t.

---

We took trips together.

Not romantic getaways—but intentional, shared experiences.
He came with me to Florida last year. Twice.
At the time, it felt like the natural next step for… whatever it was we were building.
We were both entrepreneurs. Both driven. Both dreamers.

So when he talked about partnering on something bigger, I didn’t hesitate.
Of course we’d do business together.
Of course we’d build something.
We already were.

And then he met my parents.

Sat across from them at the same dinner table where my family celebrates holidays.
Laughed with my dad. Talked conspiracy theories with my mom.
This wasn’t just a casual meet-the-parents dinner—this was sacred ground.
I hadn’t invited anyone into that space since my last committed relationship ended in 2021.

But I let him in.
Because that’s what you do when you love someone.
You let them see the parts of you no one else gets to touch.

We started talking about relocating to another state—building something new from the ground up.

That’s when I asked:
What are we doing? Are we together? How do we protect what we’re building—and each other?

And he looked at me and said:
“What are you talking about, Anna? We’re friends. You’re one of my favorite people. You don’t have to protect yourself from me.”

Friends?

We’re just friends?

I had built a future around a man who called me one of his favorite people.
And I was hopelessly in love with him.

But to him… we were just friends.

---

I took a long break from him.

I’d done this before.
Back when we first met, I felt myself falling too fast for my own comfort.
So I did what any rational adult woman would do—I blocked him.

This time, I didn’t block him.
But I didn’t engage either.

I ignored his calls.
Didn’t reply to texts.
Went dark for three months while I tried to process what he had said.

Friends?

It broke me.

I was experiencing a kind of pain I couldn’t explain.
Grieving something that was never mine.

And that made it worse than any breakup I’d ever had—
because there was no ending.
No closure.
No “we tried.”

Just me, sitting in the wreckage of something he didn’t even think was a relationship.

But the worst part?
I still loved him.
And I missed every second of not getting to talk to him.

I missed his voice. His laugh.
The way he got flustered when I noticed the little things about him.

And I was going through big things.
Making huge decisions—like moving to Greece.
And he was the person I always bounced ideas off of.
The one who could talk me through anything.

So eventually…
I let him back in.

And to his credit—he was different.

Softer. More intentional. He started showing up in ways he hadn’t before.
Not big grand gestures… but small things. Consistency. Thoughtfulness. Presence. Accountability.
It felt like maybe he had finally caught up to the version of him I always believed in.

And for a while, I let myself believe in us again.

But there’s a part of the story I haven’t told yet.
Because what came next was the real heartbreak.

The kind that doesn’t come from being left—
but from realizing you have to be the one to walk away.

Until next time.

xoxo,

Anna

Photo by Octavio Fossatti on Unsplash

Part II of “Almost Mine” drops soon.
Tap that little ♡, share it if it hit, and make sure you’re subscribed so you don’t miss what comes next.
Because the goodbye?
This time, it stuck.

If this story made you feel something—or had you texting your best friend like “girl, read this”—
you can subscribe to keep following along, or buy me a coffee to help fuel the next heartbreak I process in public (hopefully fiction next time 🤞🏼).

Because this is cheaper than therapy, but honestly? Just as emotionally exhausting.
Thank you for being here.

P.S.
While I was tying up loose ends with Mr. Almost…
Someone else quietly slipped out of the story too.

Read Foreign Affairs Vol. 1 (Part II): Vespa Guy – The Fadeout We Both Chose here.

And trust me—you’ll want to be caught up before Part III.
Because Santorini didn’t go the way I thought it would.

If you’re new here and want the full emotional roadmap, check the Chaos Map 🔗