So, back on campus, there was this boy. He told me he liked me and wanted us to be together. I said no. And then, as a joke, I asked him to “link” me up with his friend, because honestly, it was the friend I had my eye on.

He actually did it. He gave me his friend’s number.

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I called. I played my shot. We talked, and one thing led to another. We started dating.

The funny part is that the first boy wasn’t even angry. We stayed friends. He even introduced me to his new girlfriend later on, and I was genuinely happy for him. He had moved on, and I was in a relationship with his friend for about two years. When it ended, it was peaceful. No fighting, no hard feelings. I thought that chapter was closed.

Life after school is its own story. I ran into that first boy again—the one who had proposed all those years ago. We started talking. He told me he still wanted me. He proposed again, and this time, I said yes.

I asked about his girlfriend. He told me they were still together, but it wasn’t working. He blamed the distance. I believed him, because sometimes distance does not make the heart grow fonder.

Along the way, I got pregnant.

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When I told him, he said he wasn’t ready. He asked me to end the pregnancy, but I refused. I told him he was free to walk away if he wanted to. When he saw I wouldn’t change my mind, he agreed to stay. But he told me to my face, “The love I have for you is finished.”

He meant it.

Those nine months were filled with the hottest pepper you can imagine. Insults. Neglect. He showed me in every way that he wanted nothing to do with me.

And then I found the messages. I saw his chats with his “ex.” She was asking him when they would get married. It was clear they were still very much together. When I confronted him, he swore they weren’t serious. I was tired but decided to stay calm and just focus on having my baby. By God’s grace, I gave birth safely.

A couple of years later, my curiosity got the better of me. I reached out to the other woman. I had to know the truth.

She told me everything. They had never broken up. Not once. He visited her; she visited him. Then she started telling me private things about myself, details he had shared with her. I was shattered. For two days, I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I started the slow, painful work of trying to move on.

But here is my truth, the one I’m almost ashamed to admit: I still love him.

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Now he’s back. He says he wants to work things out. I even heard he told a friend he would never marry me, though he later said it was just anger talking. And a part of me, a big part, wants to give him another chance.

But the other part of me is terrified. What if I go through all that pain again? What if the insults and the neglect come back?

My heart is pulling me in one direction, but my memory is holding me back. I’m stuck right in the middle, and I don’t know which way to go.

—Evelyn

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