Wanderhoney.com

Not every love story ends in forever, and that doesn’t make it any less real or meaningful.

Today, I want to take a moment to honor someone I rarely talk about but who played an incredibly important role in my life and in the foundation of my blog, Wanderhoney.

His name is Chris.

We met on an online community during a time when life felt full of possibilities, but also a little uncertain. I had a dream of starting a blog, but I had no idea how to bring it to life. In 2016, Wanderhoney was just a blurry idea in my mind, and Chris helped me turn it into something real.

From scratch, we built this blog together. I didn’t know how websites worked and had no clue how to manage hosting, design, or even basic editing. But Chris, with his background in software engineering, patiently figured it all out with me from 8,800 kilometers away. He never made me feel incapable. Instead, he always believed in me even when I wasn’t quite sure how to believe in myself.

What many people don’t know is that Chris was the steady hand behind Wanderhoney, quietly holding things together when I had no clue what I was doing. He was my co-creator, my go-to editor, and my patient late-night tech support when the site crashed or something randomly broke. He was there, fixing a glitch I didn’t understand, brainstorming a blog title, or reminding me to breathe when I was overthinking. Always. Even from a world away. And when brand emails came in and I had no idea how to sound “professional enough,” he’d sit with me—virtually—reading drafts and gently tweaking my replies.

He didn’t just love me; he believed in what I was building. He treated this blog like it mattered because I mattered to him. Wanderhoney started gaining traffic surprisingly fast, even when I was still figuring things out. By 2019, it reached its peak, with around 2,000 to 3,000 readers a month, and a total of 446,718 readers for the year. Then the world changed. When COVID hit, everything slowed down. I couldn’t travel, and that made it harder to keep creating the kind of content people came for. But I kept writing—about life, about feelings, about whatever helped me stay connected to my voice.

I’ve poured so much into this blog: creatively, emotionally, and financially. And so did Chris. Maybe that’s why I’ve kept Wanderhoney alive, even as it shifted from a travel blog into something more personal, more reflective… a space where I’m still figuring things out. Wanderhoney is one of the things I’m most proud of. It’s my achievement, my proof that I can build something from scratch, even without prior knowledge. It’s the result of my hard work, my growth, and my resilience. It’s a living reminder that I’m capable of turning blurry dreams into something real, meaningful, and lasting.

Even after our relationship ended, he continued to quietly show up. He helped me edit drafts and stay grounded when everything felt overwhelming. That’s just who he is—a good man.

Chris and I were in a long-distance relationship for 3 years. While many doubted it would last, we quietly proved them wrong for a long, beautiful time. He was thousands of miles away, yet emotionally closer than anyone I’d ever known. Chris taught me what loyalty truly looks like and how love can remain steady even when life tries to pull you in different directions.

The distance? He never made it feel like a problem.

He showed up digitally, emotionally, and unconditionally. Our Skype was always open, like a window to each other’s world. We watched movies together online, played video games, and made time for long talks that made the miles between us feel small. We met in person at least once a year for a 2-week holiday, and those moments were magic. He was closer to me than many people who stood right beside me.

But as life often reminds us, love doesn’t always end because it’s broken. Sometimes, it ends because we outgrow the season we were once in.

When things began to fall apart, it wasn’t because we stopped loving each other. It was because I was overwhelmed with pressure, expectations, and the noise of “what should be.” I felt like I had to figure everything out fast: get married, settle down, and be someone everyone could approve of.

And in that rush, I panicked.

I pushed him away, not because I didn’t love him, but because I didn’t know how to hold on to love while trying to find myself in the middle of all that uncertainty.

Looking back now, I can admit this: I was scared.

Scared of being left behind. Scared of not being “enough.” Scared that I was doing life “too late.” And in that fear, I let go of us. I still remember how heartbroken he was when I told him I wanted to end the relationship. It wasn’t because we stopped loving each other, but because deep down, I knew our differences, especially in beliefs, would eventually pull us apart. Maybe I was wrong out of panic, but one thing is for sure: I broke the heart of a good man. And that will always stay with me.

That fear gave me one of the biggest lessons of my life. I’m still unsure of where life will lead, but the difference now is that I know myself better. I’ve grown into someone who no longer fears uncertainty, because I’ve learned that peace doesn’t come from having all the answers; it comes from learning to be at home within yourself. I may not have it all figured out, but I know this: I’m exactly where I need to be. And our relationship? It was a beautiful chapter, not the whole story, but one I’ll always carry with me.

And this post? It’s not about regret.

It’s about gratitude.

Gratitude for a person who helped shape the woman I’ve become—and the standards I now hold when it comes to love, loyalty, and kindness.

Chris, thank you.

• Thank you for loving me through my uncertainty.
• For believing in me when I was building something out of nothing.
• For editing Wanderhoney when it was just an idea on a screen.
• For showing me that real love can be soft, patient, and loyal, no matter the distance.
• For being there even after we parted ways.
• For your kindness, generosity, and quiet strength, especially when I didn’t know how to ask for help.
• For your patience during my worst moods, when my temper flared and my fears took over.
• For supporting me through my lowest days, even when you had every reason to walk away.
• For helping me emotionally, creatively, and even financially, without ever keeping score.
• For being the one who stood by, not just as a partner, but as a true friend.
• For never speaking badly about me. 

You treated me with a kind of care that not everyone gets to experience. You were a good partner. My family loved you, and I loved you.

Not every love story ends in a proposal, a wedding, or forever.
Some end quietly, with mutual respect.
Some end with personal growth.
Some end with love still in the air, but no longer moving in the same direction.

And that’s okay.

Thank you for everything.
Hani.

Coffee helps me write. Support helps me shine. 🥰