Unclaimed But Never Forgotten | Original Story By Herman Kingsley - Edited By Roselyn A. St Claire

A Man's Reflection on the Woman He Never Had—But Always Wanted

The love I’ve held for years surrounds someone I may never truly have in my possession.

We met years ago at her workplace. I was younger then, but even at that point in my life, I had made a firm choice—my relationships would avoid one particular factor: children from previous unions. Not out of judgment, but from lived observation. Too many times, I’d seen men step in for absent fathers, pour into children as their own, only to be pushed aside later in life when the original father—suddenly stirred by pride, guilt, or convenience—decided to show up. Often because the child had now become someone “worth showing up for”—academically brilliant, socially respected, gifted in sport or public life.

It always left a bitter taste in my mouth. A man who put in the work was pushed aside for someone who had done nothing but reappear. I didn’t want that to be my story.

But this woman—this woman—shifted something in me.

Every encounter we had was bathed in warmth. She brought a sense of peace, joy, affection, and care. Never once did I feel tension or resentment from her. She was upfront, graciously, about being a mother. Maybe it was in response to my earlier rants about my ideals and what I could or couldn’t accept. But her energy never felt like resistance—it was a gentle reminder, a soft reaffirming of her truth.

Eventually, I did tell her that if we were ever to be more, I wouldn’t treat her child as separate from myself. There would be no “split fathering.” That child would be mine in full. And with the paternal father living outside the country, the situation seemed even more possible.

Still… life continued. And with it, distance.

But her image never left my mind. Her face. Her walk. Her soft laugh. Her beautifully shaped body. Her grace. Her aura. I couldn’t unsee her. Couldn’t not want her.
Even though I was in another relationship, the desire didn’t fade. My body still reacted at the thought of her. My mind still circled back to memories of her eyes and how relaxed I felt around her. It became more than lust—it was a tether. Something emotional, physical, spiritual. An infatuation? Maybe. But it felt deeper.

I asked about her. Mutual friends, shared spaces, passing conversations—she came up more than once. I remember one of our mutual friends, close enough to know my truth, once asked if we had ever been sexual. I laughed. “No,” I said honestly, “but I wanted to. Badly.”

I never blamed her for how hooked I became. She didn’t do anything manipulative or misleading. It was just her. Her presence. Her attitude. Her beauty. Her vibe.

And then… time passed. Too much time.

Until fate spun the wheel again.
We ran into each other at the grocery store. I wasn’t prepared. She looked incredible—just as I remembered. Still had that same calm glow, the same welcoming smile. She kissed me on the cheek, hugged me like old times, and my chest ached with something familiar and sweet.

We exchanged numbers again. I told myself, This time, I won’t let it slip through the cracks.
Social media helps—we stay connected, if only lightly. It’s not enough, but it keeps the thread from breaking completely.

Then I learned something new: she now has two more children.
And that realization hit differently.

It made me pause. Made me wonder if this dream I’ve kept alive in my heart is too far gone to reach for now. Maybe it’s wiser to walk away—quietly, respectfully.
But the thought of walking away from her… still feels unbearable.
Her pull on me is stronger than ever.

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Reflection

The truth is, I may never have her.
Not in the way I’ve always imagined. Not in the way my desire has replayed it in my head for years.
But even if she was never mine to claim, she will always be the woman who stirred something in me that no one else has been able to reach.

And maybe that’s enough.
Or maybe… one day, when timing meets intention, I’ll finally get to hold her.
Not in fantasy, not in memory—
But in the quiet, steady arms of reality.

Until then, I will keep loving her, silently, sensually, respectfully—from where I am.
Because some connections… never truly end.

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