Messages I never deteled

A true story told like a novel - raw, and unapologetically alive.

Annabelle. 31. Paris. Sharp mind, soft heart, zero patience for bullshit.
Bray. 34. New York. Finance guy. Clean cut, emotionally messy, stupidly charming.

I met him on Hinge.
Three days in Paris. One week in New York. And hundreds of messages I never deleted.

He wasn't just a man. He was a possibility.
A distraction. A storm. A mirror.

This isn't a love story. It is my story. The story of what it did to me.

Through voice notes, late-night texts, and impossible distance, I tried to hold on.
To him. To what we had. To who I was becoming.

It's messy. It's vulnerable. Sometimes funny, often heartbreaking.
But above all, it's mine.

And if I can't change what happened, I can at least rewrite the ending.