She Chose Her Family Over Her First Love

Dear James,

We were both so young when you declared your love for me. At just twenty-three, you seemed ready to conquer the world. I was nineteen, still blossoming into the woman you envisioned. To this day, I wonder what you saw in me. Perhaps I was beautiful in your eyes, or maybe after spending so much time together, I felt like the obvious choice for a girlfriend. Or perhaps you believed in my potential. Regardless of the reason that brought you into my life, I am grateful for the timing.

My friends often called me lucky, but I would tell them, “I’m not lucky. Love finds those it chooses. It found me, so I must cherish it while it lasts.” You weren’t my first boyfriend; I had a brief fling after finishing high school, but it was innocent—just kisses and youthful games. You were my second boyfriend, and it was with you that I lost my innocence.

I remember that night when you asked, “Haven’t you done it before?” I thought you were referring to kissing, so I replied, “Yes, I’ve done it once.” But you meant something entirely different—sex. I realized you had misunderstood me, but I didn’t want to correct your impression, so I let it be. I allowed you to take that step with me, and though it was painful, I didn’t mind giving it to you because it was you. Love gives, even when it feels like it has nothing left to offer.

When you graduated and prepared to leave me behind, I felt a shiver of fear. I couldn’t imagine surviving my remaining years on campus without you. I worried you might find someone else and forget about me. Our future seemed uncertain, but you kept urging me to stay hopeful and to keep loving you because you would always be my boy. There was little I could do; I couldn’t stop time, so I had to watch you leave as your chapter on campus came to an end.

You continued to call and share updates about your life. Whenever you could, you visited me on campus, and those were some of the happiest days of our lives. You would take me out, and we’d enjoy our little corner of the world until it was too late to stay outside. You’d bring me back, kiss me goodbye, and remind me to be a good girl. I was indeed a good girl, wholly yours, which is why I turned down many suitors. I told those who got close, “My heart belongs to someone else. I’m sorry, but I can’t be yours.”

Just as I was about to finish school and continue our love story, you told me you had an opportunity to travel abroad. No matter how hard I tried to stay close to you, the winds of change kept pushing you away. I was happy for you and your chance to grow, but the thought of you leaving the country saddened me. I couldn’t stop you, so just a week before I graduated, you boarded a plane to start your new life.

I believed in your promises. You said, “I’ll spend each day preparing a place for you, and when the time is right, I’ll come for you.” I trusted you and your intentions. You kept every promise, but life has a way of pulling us away from our dreams. Eventually, your calls became less frequent, and your excuses turned into a simple, “I’ve been busy with work and school.” I understood, but I wished you would make more of an effort. I wouldn’t have minded if you called me at dawn or during your lunch break just to say hello.

You drifted away while I remained steadfast, hoping for change. One year turned into two, and nothing improved. You were gone, and all I had left were the memories of the footprints you left in my life. After three years of silence, I decided to move on and give love another chance. That’s when I met Nicholas, who became my husband a year and a half later. Nicholas has been nothing short of amazing—supportive of my dreams and always striving to give me the best. We’ve shared a beautiful love story and are blessed with two wonderful children.

Then one day, you called, and memories flooded back. “Hello Freda. Do you know who this is?” My heart raced. It felt as if you were standing at my door. I wanted to say, “Yes, it’s James, the love of my life,” but instead, I hesitated and simply said, “James?” It came out as a question, but I knew it was you. That marked the beginning of your return to my life. I told you I was married and had two kids, but that didn’t deter you. You said, “I’ll come to claim what is mine.” A part of me felt a thrill at hearing that after all these years, you still considered me yours. Suddenly, I wanted you again. I wanted us to pick up where we left off.

Hiding our conversations at night was challenging, but I was willing to take the risk. When you called and I couldn’t answer because my husband was nearby, it broke my heart. That’s when I realized my love for you hadn’t died; it had merely been buried beneath confusion and chaos after you left without a word. I craved everything again. It felt wrong, like I was betraying an innocent man. But you wanted it, and I was ready to give it to you to prove my love still existed.

When you told me you’d be in Ghana in December, I couldn’t contain my excitement. It showed in my demeanor, and my husband noticed. “What’s making you so happy?” he asked. I lied, “Nothing. I’m just feeling good.” I started eating healthily and drinking slim tea to look my best. I spent hours in front of the mirror, wondering, “Will he still find me beautiful? Am I still the girl he fell for?”

The day arrived for me to meet you at the airport and take you to the hotel I had booked. Can you believe I bought a new dress and a fresh set of lingerie for the occasion? I was tempted. But the night before your arrival, I reflected deeply. I asked myself, “Freda, what have you become? Aren’t you still Nicholas’s wife and a mother to your two lovely kids? Why are you allowing yourself to be swayed by a love that never lasted?” After much contemplation, I realized I wasn’t in love with you; I was in love with the memory of what we once had.

Did you really think I would throw away everything I had built over the years for you?

So when you called, I didn’t answer. You called again, and I still didn’t pick up. I turned off my phone, went to the kitchen, and prepared dinner for my husband. He innocently asked, “You said you had an event to attend. Aren’t you going?” His innocence nearly brought me to tears. I replied, “No, I’m not going anymore. It’s hard to leave you and the kids behind.” He thought it was love; I saw it as liberation.

When I turned my phone back on the next day, I saw your message asking where I was and the name of the hotel. I knew you wouldn’t be stranded; this is your home country. That’s why I didn’t respond. Thankfully, you left me alone and didn’t reach out again. I still think about you sometimes. I miss you. We could have been great together, but it didn’t happen. With this letter, I want to convey one thing: I loved you with all my heart, and I would relive it all if given the chance, but I have moved on to something greater. I have the love of Nicholas and my children, and that is all I need.

I wish you all the best in life and happiness. When you find a woman you love, marry her and start a family, because in the end, family is all that truly matters.

—Freda

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