In love, Y/n hadn’t been that lucky. She had given a lot but hadn’t gotten much in return. Was she unlucky, or was it just not the right person? Her three-year relationship had ended with him cheating. Just like that. There had been ups and downs, good days and bad. Sometimes, she thought they didn’t belong together, and on other days, he was everything she could ask for.

No matter the rollercoaster of emotions, Y/n had believed he was the one. She thought they would come out stronger after every struggle. He was her first in many ways—her first real love, the first man she slept with, the only man to be precise. But what did that count for in the end?

Y/n sighed, standing behind the room separator, staring at the dress on the mannequin, where she had carefully placed it back. 

All the men in her life had only left her disappointed.

It had been almost a year since her breakup, and she was getting over him, completely over him, because that asshole didn’t deserve her. She had taken her time to heal, refusing to jump into casual hookups just for the sake of it. She wasn’t that kind of person. The idea of meaningless flings repulsed her. Y/n loved deeply and wanted to be loved just as deeply in return.

She deserved love, didn’t she? She had thought she had it with her ex—the emotional connection was there, and physically, it had been good enough, even though she hadn’t felt that burning excitement or passion with him sexually. He was the only man she’d ever been with, which made her wonder… Was that what the feeling was when ‘he’ touched her? A burning passion?