If you leave her, make sure she’s not the love of your life.

Otherwise you will meet her one day, on an autumn street, yellow leaves blowing about her, her arms full of her child and a happy marriage.

And she will ask you expectantly, her eyes gleaming, hoping you found happiness too, “What did you trade me for?”

And you will not be able to answer. Because all you traded true love in for is empty hands and a half-full life.

— Nikita Gill