I never believed in “pausing” a relationship—it’s either on or off. But when my boyfriend, Jack, said he needed time to “work on himself,” I didn’t argue. I just didn’t expect him to vanish for six weeks and come back yelling that I’d failed some imaginary test.
We’d been together for two years, with a rhythm of coffee runs, movie nights, and spontaneous adventures. He was warm, funny, and thoughtful—but then he started shutting down emotionally. One night, over dinner, he said he needed a “relationship pause” to clear his head. I asked if we were breaking up. “No,” he said. “Just a break.”
That was the last I heard from him. Texts and calls went unanswered. Slowly, I accepted that he’d ghosted me.
To cope, I focused on myself, volunteering at a local animal shelter. I ended up adopting a senior dog who immediately became a part of my life. My routine, my peace, my independence—it was mine.
Then, three weeks later, his name appeared on my phone: “I’m back. I’ll come over tomorrow so we can talk.” I stared at the message, stunned.