I haven’t been able to forget him for a decade. How do I move forward?
I was only 23 when I left to study in America. Young, naive, and full of hopes and dreams—I never imagined how one encounter could upend my entire life and leave an indelible mark on me.
On my first day at university, destiny brought me face-to-face with Andrew. He was ten years my senior, English, reserved, calm—completely unlike the type of man I was usually drawn to. But when our eyes met, it felt like I couldn’t hear or see anyone else. There were two dozen people at the table, yet I only saw him. Something inside me stirred. It was as if I recognized him, as if I had been searching for him all my life and had finally found him.
We started to cross paths more often—it turned out we had mutual friends. Gradually, we grew closer, and soon our story began. He started learning French, and I began learning English. It was pure euphoria. In his embrace, I felt like myself, and his voice held a tenderness I had only known from films. I was happy, until the moment I found out he was married. He had a wife and child in England.
My world collapsed in an instant. I wanted to leave, to end everything, to forget, but I couldn’t. He explained he was planning to divorce—his wife had been unfaithful, their relationship long destroyed, and he was just waiting for the right moment. I suffered through an emotional storm and eventually went back home, to the UK, but I returned shattered.
For three months, I didn’t leave the house. The only person I spoke to was Andrew. We talked on Skype for hours every day. He never left me alone in that hell. When I finally decided to return to the States, he met me at the airport with flowers and a warm meal he had cooked himself. He always cared, always asked if I had money, if I was warm enough, if I had eaten. He was like an older brother and at the same time—my love.
But soon everything fell apart again. Andrew’s wife decided not to divorce—for the sake of their child. He couldn’t leave her, couldn’t abandon his son. He honestly told me that we had no future. Once more, I found myself alone. For the second time, he broke my heart.
A year passed. I still couldn’t forget him. Then Paul came into my life—also English, from the same town as Andrew. We started dating, and then I became pregnant and gave birth. We weren’t married, but we lived like a family. All this time, I kept in touch with Andrew. He asked mutual friends about me, wondered how I was doing, how my child was. He didn’t disappear from my life, although he lingered more in the background.
And then one day—on the 19th of January—Paul and I were supposed to get married, but for some reason, we postponed the wedding until the summer. Just two days later, on the 21st of January, Andrew found me and told me he had finally gotten divorced. He was free. And I realized that I couldn’t marry Paul. I couldn’t deceive him, or myself.
I told Paul the whole truth—that all these years I had loved another. That I couldn’t forget. That I had tried and fought this feeling, but it was stronger than me. Andrew also confessed that he had never forgotten me, that he had thought about me all along.
I introduced Andrew to my child. He suggested we live together. And though my heart tore with guilt toward Paul, I knew there was no choice. I had lived in the past for too long. For ten years, I had tried to erase Andrew from my memory, but he was with me every second.
I don’t want to take the child away from Paul. I don’t want to hurt him. He is a good man, a wonderful father. But love isn’t something you choose. It either exists, or it doesn’t.
Now I stand at a crossroads. My heart beats in a rhythm of pain and hope. I look into my child’s eyes, not knowing how to explain that sometimes, to be happy, you must take a leap into the unknown. I look into Andrew’s eyes and see the very spark I saw on the day we first met.
Ten years ago, I didn’t know what true love was. Now I do. But this love has brought so many tears, so much loss, that I’m unsure if I can ever be thoroughly content. And yet… I choose it. Because I have never felt anything more powerful in my life.
