I’m engaged to be married in two months. And my fiancé is an incredibly great man who will make a good husband. He’s kind, patient with me, and intentional. He tries so hard to make me happy, and I see it.

He deserves a wife who loves him for what he is, for who he is. A wife who will put in the effort to make their marriage work. And I want to be that kind of wife, a wife whose heart runs toward him, not one that’s still haunted by memories she wishes she had buried years ago.

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But when I imagine my wedding day, I don’t feel the overwhelming excitement everyone talks about. The butterflies in my stomach, the anxiety, the feeling of walking down the aisle… I don’t get it.

You see, three years ago, my ex-boyfriend went ghost on me. We were supposed to be holding hands and convincing my dad why he was the best man for me. Maybe he got tired of it all and slipped away.

He stopped replying to my messages, then he relocated. I went to his house one day and met someone else there. I called him, but he didn’t pick up. I sent messages, and he didn’t answer them. I reached out to him on social media, but he deactivated all of them.

His family wouldn’t tell me where he was. His friends weren’t helping me either.

I don’t know how I survived it, but time worked its magic.

I was suicidal. I tried to find him. My mind was restless.

He brought me a kind of peace I had never felt. He was my best friend, my love. I lived my life with him in mind. He was the air I breathed, the reason…

You know, our kind of love was the one where I could easily fall asleep when he was around. On his shoulders, in the kitchen. Wherever he was, I could just lie down and sleep because I knew he would let no terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness, come near me.

Then he walked away from me, easily, just like that.

Hmm. At first, I held on to the hope that he was coming back. But he didn’t come a year later or even call, so I took a step forward.

I started dating, but I compared every man to him. If you didn’t meet the standards he set, I dropped you. If you didn’t quiet the noises in my head the way Farouk did, you were out.

I have done this for a long time. But I can’t keep doing this to myself.

I feel guilt, fear, confusion, and grief for a love that died without a funeral. I don’t want to carry another man’s shadow into my marriage. I don’t want my fiancé competing with a ghost. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering, “What if?”

I’m exhausted.

I’m tired of comparing. Tired of grieving someone who probably hasn’t thought about me in years. Tired of feeling emotionally divided.

I want to let go. I want to wake up one day and think of my fiancé first. I want to love him wholeheartedly, not because I’m forcing myself to, but because my heart has finally made room for him.

How do I stop comparing Farouk to my husband-to-be?

Is There A Man Out There Who Doesn’t Cheat?

How did you bury the love you had for someone who disappeared without saying goodbye?

And how do I love the person in front of me when part of my heart is still waiting for someone who walked away? How can I find a way to love my husband in these two months before our wedding?

— Preshy
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