I was sitting with a friend last week, and she asked me to simply listen to her. Being a good friend, I did exactly that, and we ended up finishing a bottle of wine together. People think that around the age of forty, life should be steady, predictable, and possibly even tranquil. However, nobody can really prepare you for the emotional turmoil that might accompany something as vague as a situationship. My friend Kavita, a businesswoman and single mother, was sitting there crying uncontrollably, even though she believed her sadness was over.

Kavita shared : You think it gets easier after 40, don’t you? That by now, love and relationships should come with more clarity, less chaos. That at this age, you’ve paid your dues—been through heartbreaks, maybe a divorce or two, raised a child, managed a career—and you should know better. Be better.

I added : I thought so too.

She continued sharing : But here I am, telling you this over this sacred glass of wine because you’ll understand. Because you my friend, knows what it’s like to meet someone who doesn’t quite fit into your life, yet somehow finds a way into your heart. Someone who isn’t really yours, but you find yourself saving space for them—mentally, emotionally, even physically.

That someone for me was Prathmesh.

She herself justified : Yes, he’s married. Still is. With a 10-year-old son. And I’m a single mom to a teenage daughter, caring for my ageing mother, trying to juggle my design consultancy and keep a few dreams alive. We weren’t looking for love. Or maybe we were—just not the traditional kind.

We fell into a situationship. You know the kind—no label, no promises, but all the feelings. And in this grey zone, I faced dilemmas I never expected to be grappling with at this age.

I took a pause and then said, Kavita, I hear a lot of “if’s” & “but’s” in your thought process, as if you are struggling with dilemma’s. She looked at me with surprise and said, yes, that’s the right word “Dilemma”

As the conversation proceeded further , I tried to make her answer few things which gave her a look at inside rather issues outside.

I asked her, tell me Kavita how did this relationship or situationship as you term, started.

She with a sparkle in her eyes started sharing : We met through a common client and in instant we connected, then we spoke almost every day. He shared things he never told anyone, and so did I we’d meet for coffee, sometimes lunch, often just to sit in car and talk. His presence was calming, his affection tender. Yet every time I looked into his eyes, a question lingered.

So one evening while we were sitting together I asked him What is this to you?” He looked at me, paused, and said, “It’s something I can’t define, but I know it matters.”

He took a deep breath and replied, “I don’t know. But I know I don’t want to lose what we have.”

What did that even mean? I didn’t want to corner him, yet I was slowly cornering myself—into hoping, into waiting, into wondering.

So, do you think clarity in such situations can be a cause of my dilemma ? asked Kavita

I replied , see what I have learned that clarity is not a luxury at this age—it’s a necessity. And yet, people like us hesitate to ask for it, fearing it’ll ruin something beautiful. But if it’s real, it won’t break from a question. And if it does, maybe it wasn’t real enough to begin with.

She galloped the whole wine left in her glass and poured another glass for both of us, with a sigh she sat down and said …Both of us were sandwiched between generations—caring for our kids, tending to ageing parents, managing work. Our lives were already full. We were each other’s escape. A breather. But the thing about breathers is… they end.

Sometimes I wouldn’t hear from him for days. He’d resurface with, “It’s been hectic. You understand, right?” And yes, I did. But after a point, I started wondering: Was I just filling his gaps? Was I the pause in his chaos—not a part of it?

And you’ll feel it too, when you’re always the one adjusting, waiting, understanding. Love—however undefined—needs to make room for you. Not always in grand ways. But consistently. Quietly. You shouldn’t have to fight to feel visible.

I just moved my chair near to her held her hand and said, are you looking to be someone’s full-time partner? and it hurts to feel like a well-kept secret. It’s okay to want presence, effort, and inclusion. Situationship or not, emotional connections require space in life—and in the heart.

As we talked tears were almost rolling from both of eyes, as we could feel the pain such exclusion makes one feel…

She put her head on my shoulder and said : I told myself not to fall. I told myself this was just companionship, something light to make life bearable. But slowly, I started missing him more than I admitted—to him or to myself.

I noticed how I checked my phone more often. How my mood changed when he replied late. How my daughter once said, “You smile differently when you’re texting him.”

One day, when I hadn’t heard from him in four days, I felt something break inside. Was I in love? Or just starved for attention?

I smiled and said, patting her shoulder and hugging her from side, so you wonder if you’re being needy, or if your chase will make him go away. If you’re asking too much. But here’s the thing Kavita: you’re not too much. You just care. And you deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel guilty for that. Remind yourself—feelings aren’t foolish just because they aren’t mutual. It’s okay to love. It’s okay to want more. But it’s also okay to pause and ask: Am I being met with the same emotional sincerity I offer?

Kavita stood up and walked towards the wash basin and splashed her face with cold running water , looked herself in mirror and said : Should I let go ?

This is the hardest one of the dilemma one has. How do you let go of something that technically never started? They aren’t even a couple. He never promised her anything. But she is too emotionally invested, deeply.

You know what he said when I finally asked him, Kavita gazed at me with deep desperation . When I finally asked him if he saw this going anywhere, he looked at me with kind honesty and said, “Kavita, I care for you. But I can’t make promises. My life is complicated. I don’t know if I can give you what you deserve.”

I am hurt and I am broken I don’t know what to do , now : she just busted into tears and sat on the floor. I had no other option but to help her gather her broken pieces of heart and comfort her to face the next day.

What I believe after seeing so many such situationship’s that even after 40, your heart can ache like a teenager’s. That emotional grey zones are not easier just because you’re older. That love—or its closest cousin—can enter your life in the most inconvenient, confusing ways.

But it also taught me boundaries. It taught me that I can love someone and still choose myself. That I can enjoy moments and still demand meaning. And most importantly, it reminded me that even when someone can’t give me what I want, it doesn’t mean I’m unworthy of it.

If you’re reading this and you’re in a situationship of your own, I won’t tell you to walk away or stay. I’ll just say: ask the hard questions. Listen to the silences. And remember, love that keeps you guessing forever isn’t love—it’s emotional suspense.

You deserve clarity. You deserve peace. And most of all, you deserve to be loved out loud—not in the shadows.