Some choices make perfect sense to the mind, while the heart remains occupied for a long time with everything that has been left behind. That is what makes saying goodbye so complicated. Not because the decision was wrong, but because love rarely allows itself to be confined by logic.

Over the past few weeks, I noticed one image returning to me again and again.

A butterfly.

Interestingly enough, that image only appeared after our relationship had ended.

When I first met her, she lived as though she were still inside a cocoon. Her life in Lebanon had made her cautious. Emotions often remained hidden. She expressed her own opinions with restraint. Freedom did not feel like something she could simply take for granted. It was as though she first needed to know whether the world was safe enough for her to reveal who she truly was.

Throughout our relationship, I slowly watched something change.

She increasingly dared to say what she thought. She allowed her feelings to show. Her confidence grew. I watched a woman gradually become more visible, as though she were carefully breaking free from her cocoon. I may have found that process even more beautiful than all the great moments we experienced together. You watch someone grow and realise that you were allowed to play a small part in that journey.

That was exactly why I became worried when I ended our relationship.

My greatest fear was not about myself. I was afraid she would retreat into the same cocoon in which I had once found her. That all the freedom she had discovered would give way to doubt. That the woman who had opened her wings would once again start believing she needed to hide.

That was when I began calling her a butterfly.

Not to remind her of me.

To remind her of who she had become.

I kept telling her that she needed to remain that butterfly. That she needed to keep flying. Not for me, nor to hold on to our history. I hope that one day someone will meet her and see her the way I eventually came to see her. Not only her beauty, but also her gentleness. Not only her smile, but also her quiet presence.

A butterfly hardly makes a sound.

Yet everyone notices her.

She does not need to make herself larger than she is. She does not need to convince anyone of anything. She brings colour without words. That is exactly what I find so special about her. Her presence can fill a room without her ever feeling the need to become the centre of attention.

During one of our conversations, she gave me an answer that touched me deeply.

She told me that a butterfly does not have to fly all the time. Every now and then, she is allowed to settle on a flower. Simply to rest for a while. To close her wings. When she does, the colours disappear from view and all that remains visible is the quiet, somewhat grey underside.

Yet she is still the same butterfly.

I thought that was a beautiful metaphor. Grief does not take the colours away from a person. It simply hides them from view for a while. The beauty does not disappear. It waits patiently until there is enough warmth again for the wings to open.

Since then, I think I understand her grief a little better. Her mind understands why our paths have separated. Her heart moves at a different pace. That difference cannot be hurried. Love has its own rhythm. And because of that, my own sadness has taken on a different meaning as well.

Many people think that the person who ends a relationship experiences the easier side of saying goodbye. I think that is probably true. Still, my experience feels different at times. Not because my pain is greater than hers, but because I miss her. That is part of saying goodbye. What touches me even more deeply is knowing how much pain my decision has caused her. I can see how much love she still carries within her. She does not express it through grand words or accusations. She shows it through her respect, her support and her sincere wish for me to be well.

None of that has changed my decision.

The deep connection I long for ultimately proved insufficient for us to build a life together. If I had to make the same choice again today, I would make the same decision. Still, saying goodbye has taught me something.

During our relationship, I already knew how much she meant to me. Only after we went our separate ways did I fully see how great her love truly was. Recently, I listened again to Don’t Know What You Got (Till It’s Gone) by Cinderella. Years ago, I mostly heard a powerful rock ballad. Now I heard another layer.

It is not that I only discovered what I had after it was gone. I already knew.

What I discovered after saying goodbye was just how deeply her love truly reached.

That discovery changes nothing about the past. It does deepen my gratitude. I hope she continues to see herself the way I have come to see her. Not as someone returning to her cocoon.

But as a butterfly who has simply closed her wings for a while to rest.

The sun will shine again. And when that warmth returns, she will fly again. Not because someone tells her to, but because flying has become part of who she is.