Married Yet Still Trapped In My First Love

Dear Ken,

When we reunited at Level 100 in university, I had no hesitation in accepting your proposal. We were already familiar with each other, and both of us were seeking companionship in a new environment. It was effortless for us to connect, and I must admit, I had a crush on you back in 2006 at computer school. I dreamed of being your girlfriend and waited for you to make a move, but you never did. On campus, you became everything I needed: my best friend, the brother I never had, and an amazing boyfriend. Our time together was filled with joy, and we truly enjoyed each other's company. We became that couple everyone admired, radiating love wherever we went.

Then came that pivotal day in Level 300 when you rushed to my room with exciting news. I could hardly wait to hear what had you laughing. You had won an American lottery, and your happiness was infectious. Although I felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of you leaving, I masked my worries to share in your joy. “My Ken is going to leave me behind. How will I manage on campus? How will we enjoy our time together while you’re away?” These thoughts swirled in my mind, but I didn’t want to dampen your excitement. You reassured me of your love and gave me hope, which I clung to tightly.

I stood by you through every step until the day you had to leave. We cried at the airport, knowing my love was departing, and I could see the sadness in your eyes. But what could we do? You had to go. We exchanged heartfelt goodbyes, warm hugs, and held on tightly, reluctant to let go. You promised that distance wouldn’t be a barrier for us. The $100 bill you gave me before you left felt like a piece of you, and I hesitated to spend it. But when times got tough, I eventually did, out of necessity.

I eagerly awaited your call, and when it finally came two days later, I was overjoyed. You filled me in on everything and how you were adjusting. I was thrilled that my Ken was finally in the States, and I couldn’t wait to marry a “burger.” You assured me that once you were settled, we would get married, and I would join you. Who wouldn’t be thrilled by such promises? I prayed for your well-being every day, and we made an effort to stay connected through video calls and messages, sharing the details of our lives.

Little did we know that your move to the States would mark the beginning of the end for the love we had nurtured. The challenges of a long-distance relationship began to surface. I felt insecure whenever I saw pictures of other women on your timeline. I asked you about them repeatedly, and you always insisted they were just friends. Your friends here spoke ill of me, and you believed them. I want to emphasize that you were the only guy in my life while you were away; I had no one else. I couldn’t let everything we shared slip away. Communication between us started to dwindle, and every conversation seemed to end in conflict.

Despite the growing distance, I held onto hope, clinging to my mother’s prophecy that you were meant for me. I spent countless hours praying and fighting against any negativity that threatened our relationship. I was deeply in love with you and refused to let anything come between us.

In 2011, you sent me a message that shattered me. You said, “I’ve met someone else, and it would be best for you to move on.” To this day, I don’t know how I survived that pain. I cried all night, questioning, “What happened to my mother’s prophecy?” I didn’t want to move on; even if it meant holding onto a thread of hope, I was willing to wait. I sent you messages expressing my determination not to give up on us, insisting that I would wait for you no matter what. You read those messages but said nothing, and that silence hurt deeply.

Six years have passed, yet my heart still skips a beat whenever I see your posts on Facebook. Every time my phone beeps, I hope it’s you reaching out. I was heartbroken when you informed me of your upcoming marriage. The pain intensified when I learned that the woman you were marrying shared my birthday. I fell apart when I saw your wedding photos online. Why her and not me? Even though I was married, the news of your wedding pierced my heart and left me shattered. How could I be married to someone else and still feel this way about you?

Everyone experiences true love at least once in their lifetime, and you were mine. That unique love that a woman experiences only once and never again. Sometimes I reflect on our beautiful moments together and wonder, “How could fate do this to us?” We were meant to be together, and my mother’s prophecy could attest to that, yet you chose a different path. I miss you, Ken, and I long for the day when moving on will finally be possible for me.

—Gee

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