Nia sat in a circle of women, her hands resting lightly on her lap, her heart thumping with nervous energy.
Around her were eight other women—all different ages, races, professions, and life experiences—but united by one common thread:
They had all been ghosted.
Repeatedly.
By emotionally unavailable men who made them feel like they mattered—until they didn't.
The room was warm, softly lit by string lights and candles. A small table in the center held a sign that read:
"Ghostbusters Anonymous."
Every Thursday | 7:00 PM | Healing from the Men Who Left.
It was Lola who had suggested it.
"You need a space where you're not alone," she had said. "Where you can talk without judgment. Where you can hear other women's stories and realize you're not the only one going through this."
Nia had hesitated at first.
Group therapy?
Sharing intimate details about her romantic failures with strangers?
That felt terrifying.
But after cutting Marcus off and beginning something real with Andre, she knew she needed more than just individual sessions with Dr. Gadot.
She needed community.
She needed sisterhood.
She needed healing in numbers.
And so, here she was.
In a cozy basement lounge tucked behind a bookstore in Harlem, surrounded by women who looked like they had seen their fair share of heartbreak—and survived it.
---
**First Impressions**
The leader of the group introduced herself as Maya—a soft-spoken woman in her early forties with locs pulled into a loose bun and eyes that seemed to see straight into your soul.
"Welcome to Ghostbusters Anonymous," she said warmly. "This is a safe space for women who have experienced being ghosted, emotionally neglected, or left by someone they thought truly loved them. We come together to heal, to connect, and to remind each other that we are not alone."
There were murmurs of agreement around the circle.
Maya continued. "Tonight, we'll be sharing our stories. If you're new, take your time. There's no rush. Just speak when you're ready."
Nia took a deep breath.
She wasn't sure what she expected coming here—group crying? Collective bitterness? Maybe even a little revenge plotting?
But what she found instead was something far more powerful.
Empathy.
Understanding.
Strength.
And above all… hope.
---
**The First Story**
A woman named Simone went first. She was late twenties, dressed in a sleek jumpsuit, her voice calm but laced with pain.
"I dated a man for six months," she began. "He told me he loved me within the first month. Said I was 'the one.' We talked about moving in together, getting married, having kids. Then one day, he stopped answering my calls. Vanished completely. No explanation. Nothing."
Simone looked around the room.
"And you know what's worse?"
Everyone leaned in.
"It took me three weeks to realize he wasn't coming back. And another week after that to stop blaming myself."
A few women nodded.
"That's classic hot-and-cold," one of them said gently. "Men like that feed off your attention. Give them an inch; they'll take a mile."
Simone smiled faintly. "Exactly. And now I know better."
Nia listened intently, absorbing every word.
---
**Another Voice Joins In**
Next came Tasha, a mid-forties entrepreneur who owned a chain of wellness studios across the city.
"I was engaged," she said, her voice steady. "We'd been together for four years. Had a house. Built a business together. Then, out of nowhere, he said he needed space. He disappeared for two weeks. When he finally reappeared, he said he didn't think he could commit."
She exhaled.
"He never gave me closure. Just walked away like none of it meant anything."
Tasha looked directly at Nia.
"You ever feel like you gave everything, and they didn't even try to meet you halfway?"
Nia swallowed hard. "Yes."
Tasha nodded. "Then you know how it feels to lose a future you already imagined."
A silence settled over the group.
Not uncomfortable. Not awkward.
Just... shared understanding.
---
**A Mother's Perspective**
The next woman to speak was Carla, a single mother in her early fifties.
"I raised two kids alone," she said simply. "My husband left when my daughter was five. I spent the next twenty years focused on them. When they grew up and moved out, I decided to start dating again."
She shook her head with a wry smile.
"I met a guy online. He was charming. Funny. Seemed genuine. We talked for weeks before meeting in person. For the first month, he was great. Then suddenly, he stopped calling. Stopped responding. Just gone."
Carla paused.
"I used to think I was too old for romance. Now I think I'm just too old for games."
Several women chuckled.
"But the truth is," Carla continued, "I deserved better. I still do."
Nia felt tears prick her eyes.
Because Carla's story sounded eerily familiar.
Not because she had been a single mom, but because she, too, had spent years giving everything to people who barely showed up.
And like Carla, she was learning that she still deserved love—even if it had taken decades to find.
---
**A Young Woman's Journey**
Then there was Kenya, a woman in her early twenties who had just graduated from college.
"I was in my senior year when I met him," she said, her voice quiet but strong. "We started dating, and things got serious fast. He told me I was his 'everything.' I believed him."
She looked down at her hands.
"But then, during finals week, he stopped responding. Didn't show up to class. Didn't answer texts. Just... gone."
Kenya lifted her chin.
"I waited. Hoped. Sent messages. Called. Eventually, I reached out to his roommate, and he told me he had transferred schools. No goodbye. No explanation."
Kenya let out a shaky breath.
"I wasted months wondering what I did wrong. Was I not enough? Did I push too hard? Was I too much?"
Nia's chest tightened.
Those were the same questions she had asked herself after Elijah left.
After Jordan vanished.
After Darius lied.
And after Marcus disappeared.
She wanted to reach out and hug Kenya.
Instead, she spoke.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
Kenya looked at her.
"Sometimes, people leave because they don't know how to stay."
Kenya blinked back tears. "Thank you."
---
**The Power of Shared Stories**
As the night wore on, more women shared their stories.
Each one unique.
Each one painful.
Each one healing.
One woman had been in a long-distance relationship with a man who claimed to love her but never visited.
Another had been in a polyamorous relationship where she was treated like a backup plan.
One had been seeing someone for months—only to discover he was also dating four other women.
Their stories varied, but the themes were the same.
Abandonment.
Neglect.
Betrayal.
Hope.
And eventually… healing.
---
**Nia Shares Her Truth**
When it was finally Nia's turn, she hesitated.
All eyes turned to her.
She took a deep breath.
"I'm fifty-five," she began. "I run a multi-million-dollar business. I've traveled the world. I've built a life that most people would envy."
She looked around the circle.
"But when it comes to love? I keep falling for the same type of man. Charming. Confident. Emotionally unavailable."
She exhaled slowly.
"I've dated poets, entrepreneurs, engineers, lawyers. Some stayed for months. Some for years. But they all did the same thing."
She met everyone's gaze.
"They left."
A hush fell over the room.
Nia continued.
"My father left when I was seven. My mother never remarried. So growing up, I learned that men come and go. That love isn't reliable. That connection is temporary."
She wiped a tear from her cheek.
"And yet, I kept chasing it. I romanticized passion. Mistook excitement for intimacy. Believed that if I gave enough, loved enough, supported enough—that I could change them."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"But I couldn't."
Silence.
Then, applause.
Soft at first.
Then louder.
Nia blinked, surprised.
These women weren't judging her.
They were celebrating her courage.
---
**Revelations and Reflections**
Afterward, Maya spoke.
"What you just shared?" she said gently. "That's exactly why we're here."
Nia nodded.
"I used to think I was broken," she admitted. "Like there was something wrong with me. Like I was cursed in love."
Maya smiled. "You're not broken. You're healing."
Nia let the words settle.
"I'm learning," she said quietly. "Learning to recognize red flags faster. Learning to value myself above the fleeting rush of validation from a man who doesn't show up."
Maya placed a hand on Nia's knee. "That's powerful."
Nia looked around the room.
For the first time in a long time, she felt seen.
Understood.
Supported.
And for once, she wasn't alone.
---
**Lola Knows Best**
Later that evening, Nia met Lola for dinner.
They were seated at their favorite Italian bistro—La Dolce Vita, a cozy spot known for its handmade pasta and intimate ambiance.
Lola raised an eyebrow as soon as she saw Nia's face.
"How was group therapy?"
Nia smiled faintly. "It changed something in me."
Lola grinned. "Tell me everything."
Nia recounted the night—the women, the stories, the shared pain, the collective strength.
"And when it was my turn to speak…" she trailed off.
Lola leaned forward. "What happened?"
"I realized something. I'm not alone. I'm not broken. I'm not cursed in love."
Lola squeezed her hand. "Exactly."
Nia sighed. "I spent so long thinking I was the problem. That maybe I was too much. Or not enough. But tonight, I heard other women tell stories that mirrored mine. And it hit me—I've been repeating the same pattern. Dating emotionally unavailable men. Chasing love where it wasn't available."
Lola nodded. "And now?"
Nia smiled. "Now I'm choosing differently."
"You damn well are."
Nia took a sip of wine. "And I'm realizing that healing isn't just about walking away from the wrong men. It's also about allowing the right ones in."
Lola raised her glass. "To that."
Nia clinked hers against it.
"To that."
---
**Back to Therapy**
During her next session with Dr. Gadot, Nia arrived with a sense of clarity she hadn't felt in years.
"I joined a support group," she announced.
Dr. Gadot smiled. "How was it?"
Nia grinned. "Powerful."
She described the women, the stories, the shared experience.
"I realized something," she said. "I'm not alone. I'm not broken. I'm not cursed in love. I've just been repeating the same pattern. Dating emotionally unavailable men. Chasing love where it wasn't available."
Dr. Gadot leaned forward. "That's huge, Nia."
Nia nodded. "And I'm starting to understand why. Because I equated excitement with love. Passion with presence. And I mistook attention for affection."
Dr. Gadot smiled. "That's insight. And insight leads to change."
Nia looked at her therapist, heart full.
"I'm changing," she whispered.
"Yes," Dr. Gadot said gently. "You are."