The cold glow of her laptop screen flickered in the dimly lit apartment. Maya sat cross-legged on the couch, skimming through yet another article on relationships. She was good at this—studying, analyzing, dissecting emotions like a scientist in a sterile lab. But real connection? That was another matter entirely.
She prided herself on her independence, on her ability to keep people at arm’s length. It had worked for years. Relationships, to her, had always felt like a game she didn’t quite understand. She could follow the rules, mimic the right moves, but at the core of it, she never really felt it. Like reading the lyrics to a love song without ever hearing the melody.
That night, something in the article struck her. A phrase about oxytocin—how some people avoided it like a poison, how trust wasn’t just built but biologically reinforced. She closed her laptop and rubbed her temples. Was that her? Was that why every time someone got too close, she felt the instinct to run?
The thought unsettled her. She had spent years believing she simply hadn’t met the right person, someone who matched her intensity, her ambition. But maybe, just maybe, the problem wasn’t them.
Over the next few weeks, she did something she had never done before—she asked questions. Not surface-level ones, but real, uncomfortable ones. To friends, to colleagues, even to the barista she saw every morning. She pushed past the reflex to retreat. And to her surprise, people responded. They opened up. They shared their own fears, their own doubts.
One evening, sitting across from a close friend, Maya found herself saying something she never had before. “I think I’ve been afraid of needing people.” The words felt foreign in her mouth, like she was speaking someone else’s language. But instead of rejection, she saw understanding in her friend’s eyes.
Change didn’t come overnight. But in the quiet moments—in laughter shared over coffee, in the vulnerability of admitting she didn’t have all the answers—she felt something shift. Not a grand epiphany, not a dramatic transformation. Just the slow, steady realization that maybe connection wasn’t about weakness. Maybe it was about strength.
And maybe, for the first time in her life, she was ready to try.
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