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I used to think that the expression ‘if you love someone, set them free’ was both gramatically incorrect and emotionally useless. It’s some poetic trash straight out of a dated Mills & Boons paperback. It’s a whinging lie sugar-coated with a beatific philosophy. If you love someone, you love someone. And if you love someone, then why the fuck would you want to set him or her free?

But then, as I sat across him and saw the sad, final look in his eyes, killing the last of our old intimacy with his decision, I felt the same expression resonate in my torn and bloodied subconscious. I met his eyes―for a moment it was my old Sam looking at me, goofy, gentle, kind―and I felt the inexplicable peace of finality. ‘Okay,’ I told him. And for the moment became a crucible of heartbreak, of remorse, of pain, but also of newness, of mutual understanding, of concensus; I wanted to cry for the close of a chapter, but my heart beat wildly to the beginning of a different closeness.

I love Sam. There’s no doubt; I love him, and I love being with him. But my boy has grown up; the man in him now needs a change. Something in him craves freedom and hungers for choice; our old ties must give way to new ones, and I’m at peace―I can’t bring myself to say I’m happy, because my tear-soaked pillows say something else―I’m at peace with this decision.

And so I must bravely embrace my new life. The old security is gone: I no longer belong to anyone. I’m not part of someone else anymore; I’m just Jean. It’s a frightening prospect to be alone, but yet. It would have been ten times worst to remain together for the sake of a title, for a vague commitment we made 6 years ago as teenagers. We knows? Time apart could kindle a new fire. Time apart would force us to learn the transient nature of relationships, to renew our thoughts and rebuild our bond. And even if we never come back together as a couple―a possiblity that still drives a thousand knives through my heart at the moment―I would still remain at peace for accepting this with a calmness that betray my old wilfulness.

In my heartbreak, and through my grief, I realise―I have truly become a woman.