For years, I carried a quiet crush on my boss, careful never to cross a line. He was married, and I refused to be “that girl.” When his marriage ended and the divorce was filed, I kept my distance—until he asked me out. I was ecstatic, believing timing had finally aligned. Things moved quickly: dinners turned into weekends together, laughter into intimacy. I told myself this was real, that the feelings I’d hidden for so long were finally being returned. Then the truth surfaced, and it hit like a punch to the stomach. I learned I wasn’t chosen for who I was—I was chosen for what I represented. He was using me to provoke jealousy, hoping his ex-wife would see him “move on” and come running back.

The realization rewrote every moment we’d shared. The compliments felt hollow, the affection transactional. I confronted him, and he didn’t deny it—he minimized it. He said it was complicated, that feelings had gotten mixed up. But the complication wasn’t love; it was manipulation. I ended things immediately, choosing dignity over illusion. What he didn’t expect was that his plan would fail spectacularly: his ex didn’t return, and word spread at work. I kept my professionalism intact while his reputation quietly unraveled. The experience taught me a hard truth—being wanted isn’t the same as being valued. Attraction without intention can still wound deeply. I walked away hurt, but wiser, knowing that love built to serve someone else’s agenda will always collapse. Sometimes the real victory isn’t winning the person—it’s reclaiming yourself before you’re reduced to a tool in someone else’s unfinished story.