After high school in 2017, I met him the way most modern love stories begin. I was scrolling through Facebook, bored and curious, when I saw his profile. He was fine. Not just fine, but the kind that makes you pause and stare at the screen a little longer than necessary. I laughed and thought, what must it feel like to be this handsome? Then I shook my head at my own delusion and sent him a friend request.

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The next day, he texted me.

I did not expect that. But we started talking, and it felt easy. No pressure. No awkward pauses. He asked for my number and the calls started. Long calls. The kind where you talk about everything and nothing and suddenly it is 2 a.m. and neither of you wants to hang up.

A month later, he came to my hometown. We went out for ice cream. Simple. Soft life. But that day sealed it for me. If there was any doubt about how I felt, it disappeared. I liked him.

Two months later, I gained admission into the university and ended up in the same city as him. That was when we made it official. We were dating.

It was sweet. Sleepovers. Late night talks. Falling asleep on the phone. I was 19 and deeply in love. I truly believed nothing could go wrong.

We had talked late into the night and slept off. When I woke up, I saw his message.

“There is trouble at home. I’m in big soup.”

My heart dropped. I called him. He did not pick up. I texted.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Then he told me.

He said his parents and mentors had found out he was in a relationship. They did not approve. They wanted him to focus on his studies. They were angry. Very angry.

I did not even know what to say. My heart was racing but I tried to stay calm.

“So what are you saying?” I asked him.

He replied that he did not want to be on bad terms with his parents and mentors. He said he respected them too much. So instead of fighting them, he was choosing to end the relationship.

Just like that. I was 19. He was 20. And love ended over a text on a Sunday morning.

I blocked him. Then unblocked him. I kept hoping he would come back and say he had changed his mind. I waited for him to choose me.

He would text once in a while to ask how I was. Eventually, we stopped talking completely.

I tried dating other people. It never worked. I rejected every advance. I told myself I was focused on my career, and yes, I worked hard. But the truth is, my heart never fully left him.

Six years later, life surprised me.

I was on my way to catch a bus home when I heard someone call my name from behind. I turned around.

It was him. The boy who left me because he could not disappoint his father.

For a second, I could not breathe. He looked older, more mature, more settled. But it was still him.

He said he was young then. That he acted out of respect for his dad. That he did not know how to balance love and family pressure. Now he says he is ready. He says he wants us back. He wants to settle down.

And here I am, confused.

I still love him. That is the truth. But I cannot forget how easily he let me go. If his father objects again, what happens? I remember how he used to say, “I can handle anything, but I can’t handle disappointing my dad.”

So will he choose me this time? Or will I become the sacrifice again?

Sometimes I wonder if I love him more than he loves me. I have carried this love for six years. Six.

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I have not given him an answer. I am scared that if I say yes, one day I will wake up to another text ending everything. But I am also tired of holding on to a story that never really continued.

He says he is different now. That he is older. That things have changed.

But have they?

Do I risk my heart again?

Or do I finally let go of the boy I never truly moved on from?

That is where I am.

—Tabitha

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