Seven years of planning a wedding with the man I thought was the love of my life, and he stabbed me in the back!
My name is Catherine Frost, and I live in York, where the River Ouse flows past the old houses. My tale might seem simple, yet it tears at my heart. I was preparing to marry the man I believed was my destiny, only for him to betray me in a way that still makes breathing painful.
I met David seven years ago. We never had any arguments, not a single day passed without warmth and mutual respect. We were like two halves that formed a whole. Four months in, I moved into his place because we wanted to be closer, clinging to every moment together. We made countless memories I will carry with me forever. At times, we were playful as children, laughing, playing hide and seek as a joke. Other times, we loved each other fiercely, as if there was no tomorrow—passionately, to the point of tears of joy.
I’d never felt anything similar with any other man. David was real to me—strong, gentle, the person I wanted to fall asleep and wake up next to every single morning. August 8th is a day etched in my memory. He woke me up with breakfast in bed—warm croissants, aromatic coffee, and his smile. Then we loved each other slowly, as if time had stopped. We were on holiday, savoring freedom and each other. We spent a week in Cornwall—sea, sun, sunsets that felt magical. Everything was like a fairy tale.
That day, while he was in the bath, someone knocked at the door. I opened it to find a stranger smiling and handing me a bouquet of red roses with a note: “I love you. D.” My heart leapt with joy. I thanked David for the surprise, kissed him, and we headed for the beach. But it was just the beginning. Down at reception, another guy handed me a rose. As we walked to the sea, six more people gave me a flower each. By the time we reached the beach, I had a bouquet of seven roses—one for each year of our love. David just smiled and winked: “Wanted to surprise you.” We spent the day by the water and entered the sea as the sun set, kissing under the sound of the waves. Suddenly, he knelt down in the water: “Cathy, will you marry me?” I couldn’t breathe with happiness, tears streamed down my face, my legs trembling. “Yes!” I shouted, and the world spun in a dance.
Everything was going smoothly until December. Just before Christmas, he went on a business trip to another city. He came back a week later a stranger—cold, with a distant look. For three days, I tried to understand what happened, but he remained silent as a stone. Finally, he broke down and confessed: he had slept with a coworker. They had drinks, relaxed, and “it just happened.” My world collapsed. A man who swore I was his universe, who held me as if I was the only one, betrayed me. It was a knife in the back. I cried, he cried too—tears streaming down his face, but they meant nothing.
The next day, I packed my things and left. He begged me to stay, clung to my hands, shouting that he loved me, that it was a mistake. But I couldn’t—something inside me died. I slammed the door and vanished from his life. Then came the phone calls, the long conversations, his tears and mine. But the pain lingered—betrayal burned like hot iron. I still love him—so much that it breaks my heart. Yet remembering what he did, tears choke me, and love mingles with hatred. We’ve seen each other three times since the break-up. Each time, I want to run to him, hug him, kiss him, but I hold myself back. I can’t. It’s like poison I can’t swallow.
I wish I could return to him—back to those days when he was my hero. But I’m afraid he’ll break my heart again. This wound is bleeding, and I don’t know how to heal it. I walk through the streets of York, seeing couples holding hands, and feel like an empty shell. He was my everything, and now I’m alone, with this love that suffocates me, and a betrayal that won’t let go. Please, give me advice. I need to hear someone else’s opinion, to understand what to do. Should I leave him in the past or give him another chance? The pain is unbearable, and I’m drowning in it, unable to see the shore. What should I do with this love that has become my torment?”
