A beautiful Affair (After All)

After 16 years, I finally got to talk to him again. He was a very good friend during college. Back then, I was in a painful relationship, and he was always there for me when I needed someone to lean on. He listened to all my sad stories, never judged me, never said a word—just held my hand and wiped my tears away. Our schoolmates thought we were a couple because we were always together, and he was incredibly sweet to me. Sometimes, he would even skip his classes just to take me home, using the excuse that the professor was boring. I would always scold him for that, but he would just smile at me. Then, he would stay at my house, and we would talk for hours. He even called my mom "Mom." Sometimes, our conversations lasted late into the night. I have to admit—I liked him. Maybe if I hadn’t been in a relationship, there could have been a chance. But I always reminded myself that we were just friends, especially knowing how many girls were after him. I couldn't understand why, whenever someone liked him—especially this sophisticated and beautiful girl—he would point to me and claim I was his girlfriend. I thought she was going to confront me when she came looking for me. Whenever people asked if we were together, and I said no, he would sulk and say, "Oh, is that so? I see..." I can’t help but smile now, remembering how he used to say that—he was so adorable. And I would always respond, “But it’s true!”—which only confused people more. One time, a classmate from my last subject of the day offered to walk me home. At that point, my relationship with my boyfriend was already falling apart—I had discovered that he was actually living with someone else. As we were leaving the classroom, I saw him—of course, he had skipped class again. The walk to the transportation terminal was quite far, so the three of us ended up walking side by side. He stayed close to me the whole time. When we reached the terminal, he suddenly spoke up. “Bro, you go ahead. Where are you headed?” he said, casually putting his arm around me. The poor guy was left dumbfounded. I scolded him, asking why he did that when my classmate was just being nice. His response? “Why do you need him to walk you home? Just let him go!” I sighed. “See, this is why people keep thinking we’re a couple.” As always, he just smiled at me—that smile that let him get away with anything. Days and weeks passed. He didn’t know that my boyfriend and I had already broken up. Then, our classmate’s debut came. He was supposed to pick me up, and I was excited because, deep down, I was starting to have feelings for him. When the night arrived, he knocked on my door. I opened it with a smile, and he smiled back at me and said, “I brought someone with me.” I forgot the girl’s name. I just pretended to be okay and smiled at her, too. But the whole night, I felt frustrated, hurt, and disappointed. I took it as a sign not to nurture whatever feelings I had for him. So, I guarded my heart. I built back the walls I had just started to break down. Slowly, I began distancing myself from him. I even "forgot" his birthday, which made him mad. Eventually, we drifted apart. My ex-boyfriend and I got back together and eloped. I later found out that during that time, he had been looking for me—because he wanted to invite me to his wedding. Years passed. My marriage was traumatic, I had four children, and I ended up divorced (but that’s another story). We became friends on Friendster, then Facebook, but we never really talked—except for one time when we had a long conversation, reminiscing about the past. We got so caught up in it that the conversation led to deeper topics. He still remembered everything, just as I did. He was living in another country now, maybe feeling lonely—just like I was. And before we knew it, we found ourselves missing the old days and making plans to see each other when he came home. At first, it was just a friendly meet-up, but as the days passed, things became more intense. He started calling me in the morning to wake me up and at night to say goodnight. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "I love you." At first, I didn’t know what to say. But something deep inside me awakened. I liked him—I still liked him. The feelings never really went away. And eventually, I found myself saying, "I love you, too." From then on, we lived in denial. I was so happy. He made me feel special and loved—feelings I had been longing for, for so long. Then one day, he said, "Baby, what would you do if you found out I was standing right outside your house?" He told me he was coming home soon. And suddenly, reality hit me. Hard. Yes, I was divorced—but he was still very much married. From that moment on, I constantly felt miserable, knowing we had no future. So, I texted him and told him not to call or message me anymore. I didn’t even know what I really was to him. But we needed to stop before we hurt anyone else. I told him that I treasured all our memories and didn’t want to ruin them—I wanted us to remember each other as we were. He replied, saying he was happy to have been part of my life during college. And now, he was happy that he finally got to say what he couldn’t back then—that he had loved me all along but never told me because I was in a relationship, and he didn’t want to complicate things. I cried when I read his message. I told him about the girl he had brought to the debut. He said she was just like a sister to him and that he had brought her along on a whim. But it didn’t change the reality of our situation now. Not even a few hours had passed, and he was texting me again. He said he missed me so much that he couldn’t even smile. I knew, because I felt the same way. I started replying less and less. Then he told me he had rebooked his flight to come home earlier. He was afraid that if he waited too long, I wouldn’t talk to him anymore. I could feel his sadness—he was pleading with me, asking if we could at least see each other one last time. He said I had promised we would meet. And after that, whatever I decided, he would respect and accept. The truth is—I was scared. I was scared that if I saw him, I wouldn’t be able to let him go. And I didn’t want that to happen. He messaged again, frustrated that his return had been delayed by a few more weeks. I worried about him and replied just to calm him down. But then, I heard him planning for our meeting again—planning for "us." He told me he really wanted to be part of my life. And then, reality hit me again. Harder. I felt so miserable that I cried. I told him we needed to stop. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t live in a fantasy any longer. He kept asking for a chance, but I told him I just couldn’t do it anymore. I asked him not to text or call me anymore. I even told him not to reply if I ever texted him. I deleted all his numbers and messages from my phone. But why do I still feel disappointed whenever I look at my phone and see no messages? I miss him so much. But I know I have to do this—before things go too far and more people get hurt. --- I wish I could live forever in a dreamland where you and I could be together. But reality hits too hard for me to ignore. We can never be. Goodbye, my love. Maybe in another life, we can be together forever. T_T