Richard, my husband, has always been the love of my life. He is loving, caring, trusted, and accountable. We dated for two beautiful years before getting married at the age of 26. Our journey felt like a fairy tale as we planned our future, dreaming of having children and owning our own home. But suddenly, he vanished without a trace.
As an orphan with no family ties, his sudden disappearance shocked not only me but also his friends. Worried that something terrible had happened to him, I contacted the police. Unfortunately, their investigation yielded no results. Years went by as we waited for him to come back home.
Despite being surrounded by other men who showed interest in me, I couldn’t bring myself to move on from Richard. My friends encouraged me to try new things, and Jake, a good friend, was a constant source of support. I knew he cared about me, and I felt the same way. But guilt would creep in whenever I considered moving on. I had no interest in other men and was focused on building a successful engineering career.
A recent work trip took me to another part of the country, where I attended meetings, went shopping, and took an early morning flight back on Monday. On Sunday, longing for some peace, I decided to attend a local church service. The ceremony reminded me of my daily routine back home.
As the service came to an end and I made my way to the exit, I heard a familiar voice that made my heart sink. I felt like I was going crazy. I looked around and saw a tall man. I recognized him. I recognized his laugh. He turned around, and his eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. The same goes for me. It was him, without a doubt. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Before I could say anything, the woman next to him asked, “Are you okay, Honey? Are we leaving?” He quickly replied, “Yes, you go. I just wanted to say hi to Mr. Jenkins.” She nodded and left, and Richard approached me. He tightly held my shoulders and whispered, “Not here. See you in an hour at Tom’s Cafe, River Street, 6.”
With those mysterious comments, he left. In a daze, I went to the mentioned cafe. He arrived an hour later and started explaining. “I know you want an explanation. I owe it to you.” He began telling his story, which made me feel more and more sick. Before me, he had a high school sweetheart who was the love of his life. After seven years together, she suddenly ended the relationship.
Richard, broken but resilient, continued with his life and eventually crossed paths with me. Our marriage seemed perfect until she resurfaced, declaring her love and asking for forgiveness. At that point, he realized that his heart still belonged to her. This realization hit me like a tidal wave, erasing all the years I had spent faithfully waiting. It was a heartbreaking story, and I grew angry at both him and myself.
“I waited for you all these years, and you know that I didn’t remarry?” I said, feeling a mix of disbelief and rage. He seemed taken aback, reflecting on the moment we met at church. “What? No, you couldn’t have.” “I did,” I replied, swallowing the words, filled with incredulity and anger. The pain in my chest threatened to suffocate me. I walked away to catch my breath, with Richard following and crouching beside me. “I’m sorry, Anna,” he said. But I left silently, just like he did years ago.
In the following weeks, I would continue seeking forgiveness from Richard and call Jake, inviting him to finally go out. However, in that moment, I vowed to never live for a man or anyone else but myself.
