What do you do when the person is gone but the pain feels like it's taken up permanent residence in your cells? I’m not talking about the polite, conscious uncoupling narratives you see peddled in magazines. I’m talking about the kind of split that leaves you feeling like your entire nervous system has been ripped out, leaving a hollow, echoing cavern where your heart used to be. Your body remembers it as a threat, a literal death. It’s the phantom limb of a love that was once your entire world, and now, the silence where it used to be is a screaming void. You tell yourself you’re over it. You’ve done the work. You’ve read the books, maybe even found some solace in a piece on spiritual advice for breakups. But then, it happens. A kind stranger smiles at you, a friend suggests a setup, or you feel a flicker of something that might, just might, be attraction. And your body slams on the brakes. The walls go up. A cold dread washes over you, and the narrative begins: “Never again. It’s not worth it. I can’t survive that again.” This isn’t a thought. It’s a full-body clench. A cellular