I still can’t forget him after ten years. How do I move on?
I was only 23 when I left to study in America—young, naive, full of hope and dreams. Back then, I had no idea how one meeting could turn my entire life upside down and leave a mark that still hasn’t faded.
On my very first day at university, fate brought me to James. He was ten years older, English, reserved and calm—nothing like the kind of men I usually fancied. But when our eyes met, it was as if everyone else in the room disappeared. Two dozen people sat around us, yet I saw only him. Something inside me trembled. It felt like I’d known him forever, like I’d been searching my whole life and finally found him.
We kept crossing paths—turned out we had mutual friends. Slowly, we grew closer, and soon our story began. He started learning Polish; I took up English. It was pure euphoria. In his arms, I felt like myself. His voice carried a tenderness I’d only ever heard in films. I was happy—until the moment I discovered he was married. He had a wife and child back in England.
My world shattered. I wanted to walk away, to cut all ties, but I couldn’t. He told me he was planning to divorce—his wife had cheated, their marriage was long broken, he was just waiting for the right time. I suffered, I wavered, and in the end, I returned home to Poland, utterly shattered.
For three months, I barely left the house. The only person I spoke to was James. Every day, for hours, we talked over Skype. He refused to let me drown in that misery alone. And when I finally mustered the courage to go back to America, he met me at the airport with flowers and a warm meal he’d cooked himself. He always cared, always asked if I had enough money, if I was warm enough, if I’d eaten. He was like an older brother, yet at the same time—my greatest love.
But soon, everything fell apart again. James’ wife decided not to divorce—for the child’s sake. He wouldn’t leave her, wouldn’t abandon his son. He told me honestly: we had no future. Once more, I was left alone. For the second time, he broke my heart.
A year passed. I still couldn’t forget him. Then Daniel came into my life—also English, from the same town as James. We started dating, and soon I was pregnant. We weren’t married, but we lived as a family. All this time, I kept writing to James. He asked our friends about me, wondering how I was, how life treated me, how our child was. He never truly left, even if he stayed in the background.
Then, one January afternoon—the 19th—Daniel and I were supposed to marry. But for reasons I can’t explain, we postponed the wedding to summer. Just two days later, on the 21st, James found me. He’d finally divorced. He was free. And I knew then—I couldn’t marry Daniel. I couldn’t lie to him, or to myself.
I told Daniel everything. That all these years, I’d loved another man. That I’d tried to forget, to fight it, but the feeling was stronger than me. James confessed the same—he’d never forgotten me, had thought of me every day.
I introduced James to my child. He asked us to live with him. Though my heart ached with guilt toward Daniel, I knew there was no choice. I’d lived in the past too long. Ten years I’d spent trying to erase James from my mind, yet he’d been with me every second.
I don’t want to take my child from Daniel. I don’t want to hurt him—he’s a good man, a wonderful father. But love isn’t a choice. It either exists, or it doesn’t.
Now, I stand at a crossroads. My heart beats in rhythm with pain and hope. I look into my child’s eyes and don’t know how to explain that sometimes, happiness means stepping into the unknown. And when I look into James’ eyes, I see the same spark I did on the day we met.
Ten years ago, I didn’t know what real love was. Now I do. But this love has brought so many tears, so much loss, I’m not sure I’ll ever be truly happy. And yet… I choose it. Because I’ve never felt anything stronger.
The hardest truth I’ve learned? Love doesn’t promise happiness—only truth. And sometimes, that’s enough.