When I was 19 and in my second year of senior high school, my school received a new set of national service personnel. For some reason, whenever new teachers came into our classroom, I was always the one they approached first, even though I didn’t sit in the front row or the first seat.
So when he walked in, I wasn’t surprised when he asked for my name and pointed out that we shared the same last name. After that, he’d always say hi whenever he saw me around campus until his service ended. On his last day, he promised to visit the school just to see me, and we exchanged phone numbers. True to his word, he came by every once in a while until I finally graduated. After finishing school, we lost touch.

Until we reconnected some years later and picked up our conversations again. That time, he proposed to me, but I refused. He was too old for me, a man in his thirties. I didn’t want to put myself in that situation.

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I got admission into nursing school. Before leaving, I finally decided to visit him, and we ended up getting intimate. But once I left for school, our communication started slipping. We only spoke once every two weeks. If I called, he would say he was busy and promise to call back, but those return calls never came. I made up my mind to move on. Yet the moment I decided to step away, he’d reappear out of nowhere, professing his love all over again.

My boyfriend’s mother and I became best of friends. She lived abroad and only came back home for holidays. On her birthday, she invited me over and introduced me to the entire family as his fiancée. As his mother did the introduction, my boyfriend was in a corner smiling. He liked it.

So, despite our poor communication in the past, I forgot all about it. Now, we were officially dating. He came to meet my parents, and I started spending days at his place.

He promised to marry me after I finished school but later changed the timeline, saying we would wed once I started my national service. Before I started my service, wedding preparations were already underway, but he kept postponing the date. He claimed he wanted his mother present, so since he was her only son and international travel was banned due to the pandemic, everything was put on hold. I was getting worried, so we decided to try for a baby, thinking we could just get married during the child’s naming ceremony instead. All along, he was displaying red flags in his behavior, but I was really blinded by love. I kept telling myself it didn’t matter because at least I had my own profession.

Our dream of having a baby materialized; he was happy for the first two days. But right after that, he stopped picking up my calls and just ignored my messages. I called on my parents and his mother to intervene. My parents were actually supportive about the pregnancy because my family wanted grandchildren, especially since I’m the only female on my father’s side. I’m only 25, but my aunts were already eager to help care for the baby even if my work schedule got busy.

For two solid weeks, this guy left me unread. He would view my messages but refused to answer me or my mother. After all this, his mother called to warn me to stay away from her son, saying that my boyfriend was now saying he is not interested in us anymore, so I should stop bothering him.

I couldn’t eat or sleep, and the pregnancy hormones only made the emotional toll worse. I went over to his house. He even helped me pack my belongings, and I left his place. The emotional trauma became too heavy to bear, and in the end, I terminated the pregnancy. I didn’t want a reminder of what was probably the most terrible decision of my life.

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The very day I took the medication was the exact day he called my mother to apologize to both of us. He was remorseful, saying how much he had now realized the stability me and the baby would bring into his life and that he was sorry for how he treated me. I told him of the termination and how I was willing to start over. We did try to start over, but then as time went on, I realized that he didn’t like me; he wasn’t sure of me. A man in his forties who isn’t sure of himself should never ever approach me again.

— Sandra

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