Having experienced being ghosted myself, I knew the confusion and self-doubt it planted. Respect required more than simply walking away. It meant revisiting the conversation I'd prematurely ended.

It became a pattern. Ask. Pause. Counterpoint from someone who wasn’t there. A friend, a therapist, an article, an acquaintance who once dated someone kind of like me. At first, I found it curious. Later, I stopped talking as much.

We went anyway. I wanted to make it work. But something didn’t come with us. The flow. The ease. The in-jokes. The us. The conversations grew quieter, colder. She noticed.

Every time I spoke from a place of reflection or personal experience, without really softening the edges, it got repackaged as something else. Sharp. Over-explained. Heavy.

She did describe herself openly as troubled, but it was something I initially brushed off as endearing vulnerability. She even drew me a chart to explain her complexities. Helpful, I guess?