I was 22 when I met him… he was 18, the younger brother of a friend, visiting from Sweden. The moment I saw him, something inside me just… clicked. It felt like my heart recognized him before my mind did.
He felt it too, i think. And even though he had to go back home, we decided to give it a try. For a year and a half, we lived in different countries but shared the same heartbeat. It was beautiful, raw, and innocent the kind of love you only experience once. With him, I felt seen for who I truly am. I didn’t have to pretend.
But his family didn’t approve. They said I was a bad influence. Maybe they were just afraid of how much we cared for each other. I didn’t want him to keep choosing between me and them, so I let him go, even though it broke me.
Now I’m 40, happily married to a wonderful man, with two wonderful kids. Life is good. But sometimes, late at night, I still think of him. I wonder where he is, if he’s happy, if he ever thinks of me too.
Is it normal to still have such strong feelings after so long? Or does that mean I never truly let go? And do men ever feel something like that… this quiet, lingering love, that never fully fades?
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