After seven years of planning my wedding with the love of my life, he betrayed me!
My name is Catherine White, and I live in York, where the River Ouse winds its way past historic buildings. My tale may seem straightforward, but it tears at my heart. I was ready to marry the man I thought was my destiny, yet his betrayal has left me struggling to breathe without pain.
I met David seven years ago. No arguments, not a single day lacking warmth and mutual respect. We were two halves of a whole. Within four months, I moved into his place—both of us eager to be closer, cherishing every moment together. We created countless memories that I will carry with me forever. At times we were playful like children: laughing, playing, hiding from each other in jest. Other times, our love was so intense, it felt like tomorrow would never come—passionate, trembling, blissful tears.
I had never felt anything like this with other men. David was genuine—strong, tender, the one whose arms I wanted to fall asleep in and wake up to every morning. August 8th became unforgettable. He awakened me with breakfast in bed—warm croissants, aromatic coffee, his smile. Then we made love slowly, as if time had stalled. We were on holiday, reveling in freedom and each other. We spent a week on the Isle of Wight—sea, sun, sunsets that seemed magical. It was like a fairytale.
That day, while he was in the bathroom, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a stranger with a smile, handing me a bouquet of red roses and a note: “Love you. D.” My heart raced with joy. I thanked David for the surprise, kissed him, and we headed to the beach. But that was just the start. Downstairs, at reception, another man handed me a rose. As we walked toward the sea, six more people presented me with flowers. On the beach, I held a bouquet of seven roses—one for each year of our love. David merely smiled and winked: “Wanted to surprise you.” We spent the day by the water, and at sunset, we stepped into the sea, kissing to the sound of the waves. Suddenly he knelt right there in the water: “Catherine, will you marry me?” I gasped with happiness, tears streamed down my cheeks, my legs trembled. “Yes!” I shouted, and the world spun into a dance.
Everything was fine until December. Before New Year’s, he went on a business trip to another city. He returned after a week—distant, cold, with an empty look. For three days, I tried to understand what happened, but he was silent as a stone. Finally, he broke down and confessed: he had slept with a colleague. They drank, relaxed, and “it just happened.” My world collapsed. The man who swore I was his universe, who held me as if I were the only one, betrayed me. A stab in the back—that’s what it was. I sobbed, and so did he—tears streaming down his face meant nothing.
The next day I packed my things and left. He begged me to stay, clung to my hands, shouted that he loved me, that it was a mistake. But I couldn’t—everything inside me had died. I slammed the door and vanished from his life. There were calls, long conversations, his tears and mine. But the pain remained—betrayal burned like a brand. I still love him—so intensely it tears me apart. Yet remembering what he did chokes me with tears, mixing love with hatred. We met three times after the break-up. Each time, I long to rush to him, embrace, kiss him, but I stop myself. I can’t. It’s like poison I cannot swallow.
I yearn to return to him—to those days when he was my hero. But I fear he’ll break my heart again. This wound bleeds, and I don’t know how to heal it. I walk the streets of York, see couples holding hands, and feel like an empty shell. He was my everything, and now I’m alone, with this love suffocating me, and the betrayal that won’t let go. I beg for advice. I need to hear another opinion, decide what to do. Leave him in the past or give him a chance? The pain is unbearable, and I’m drowning in it, not seeing the shore. What should I do with this love that has become my torment?
