Thinking about the one that got away, I didn’t expect what happened next. Five years had passed since my breakup with David, who I believed had cheated on me. Despite my accomplishments, the pain lingered.
One afternoon, lost in thoughts, my phone rang. It was David. Hesitant, I answered. He was crying. “I’m getting married today,” he said, sounding guilty. “But I need to tell you the truth.” My heart raced as he confessed, “I never cheated on you. Your parents made me lie to you. They thought it was best for you.”
The revelation left me reeling. I felt betrayed by the very people I trusted. David continued, “I never stopped loving you, Emma. I can’t marry her because my heart belongs to you.” Determined, I asked, “Where are you?”
I drove to the church, finding David outside. “Emma, I’m so sorry,” he said. His fiancée, Jessica, emerged, confused. “I can’t go through with this,” he told her. “My heart belongs to someone else.” She ran back inside, crying.
David turned to me, hopeful. “Will you give us another chance?” I hesitated but realized I needed to live on my terms. “Yes,” I said firmly. We left together, ready to rebuild our love.
