I never liked the idea of a relationship “pause.” It’s either on or it’s off. But when my boyfriend said he needed time and space to “work on himself,” I didn’t argue. I just didn’t expect him to come back six weeks later yelling that I’d failed some test he made up in his head.
Jack and I had been together for two years, and for the most part, things were great. We had a rhythm — coffee runs on Sundays, movie nights on Fridays, and spontaneous day trips on Saturdays just to try new donut shops or weird roadside attractions.
A couple on a coffee date | Source: Unsplash
We laughed a lot. He was warm, funny, spontaneous — the kind of guy who’d surprise me with flowers just because he passed a stand on the street.
So when he started shutting down emotionally, I didn’t know what to make of it.
It came out of nowhere. One week, he was joking about how he could beat me at Mario Kart with his eyes closed, the next he was quiet and distant. At first, I thought maybe it was work — he’d had a stressful month. But when I asked, he just shook his head and said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
A couple talking at home | Source: Unsplash
Then one night over dinner, he said, “I think I need a break.”
I asked, “What kind of break?”
“A relationship pause,” he replied. “Just some time to get my head right.”
I looked at him, not even trying to hide how shocked I was.
“I think I’m just… lost,” he said, staring down at his plate. “I need to go clear my head. Maybe stay with my parents in Washington for a bit.”
A couple having a tense conversation | Source: Unsplash
“For how long?” I asked.
“A few weeks. I don’t know. Just until I feel like myself again.”
“So… are we breaking up?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Not breaking up. Just pressing pause. Like — just a break. I need to work on myself without thinking about us all the time.”
A couple deeply engaged in a talk | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t understand how you pause a relationship,” I said. “That’s not really a thing.”
“It is if we agree it is,” he replied. “I still care about you. I just… need space.”
I looked at him for a long second. “Will we still talk?”
“Maybe a little,” he said. “But not much. That’s kind of the point.”
A couple in disagreement | Source: Midjourney
I nodded slowly. “Okay.”
But I didn’t feel okay. Not even close. Unsurprisingly, that was the last thing I heard from him.
I texted him a few times after he left — once to make sure he landed safely, once to ask him to say hi to his mom for me. No reply. I called and left a voicemail. “Hey… are we still together?” Still nothing.
After a week, I started accepting what I didn’t want to believe: he’d ghosted me. My friends said the same. It was like he wanted to disappear without saying the words out loud.
A sad woman on her phone | Source: Unsplash
I was heartbroken, but I didn’t chase him. My best friend suggested I find something new to focus on — a show, a project, anything that wasn’t Jack.
So I started spending time at a local animal shelter. At first, it was just something to do on Saturday afternoons.
And then I met him — this old dog with the saddest eyes and the gentlest heart. He was a senior, quiet, barely had energy to stand, but he curled up next to me like he’d always belonged there. I wasn’t planning on taking anyone home. But three days later, I did.
My boyfriend was terribly allergic to pet dander, which is why getting a dog had never been an option. But since, in my mind, we weren’t a “we” anymore… that didn’t matter.
A woman with her dog | Source: Unsplash
Three weeks later, I had a routine. Mornings with the dog. Evenings curled up reading or working while he snored beside me. I had stopped checking my phone for texts.
That’s why I nearly dropped it when his name flashed on my screen one afternoon. “Hey. I’m back. I’ll come over tomorrow so we can talk.”
I stared at the message like it was written in a different language. I responded, “What are you talking about?”
He replied, “I’m ready to unpause our relationship. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I didn’t answer.
A woman texting | Source: Unsplash
