Richard was the love of my life—kind, dependable, and tender. We dated for two years before marrying at 26, building dreams of children and a home together. But one day, without warning, he vanished. An orphan with no family, his disappearance shocked me and his friends. The police found nothing, and years passed as I clung to hope that he would return.

Other men showed interest, but my heart stayed loyal to Richard. My friends urged me to move on, and Jake, a close friend, was always there for me. I cared for him too, but guilt kept me from pursuing anything. Instead, I focused on my engineering career, throwing myself into work.

During a business trip, I attended a Sunday church service. As it ended, I heard a voice that froze me. Turning, I saw him—Richard—standing with a woman. His eyes widened in shock. He quickly sent her to the car and whispered for me to meet him at a café in an hour.

At the café, he confessed his story. Before me, he had a high school sweetheart. After she broke his heart, he moved on with me. But when she returned, professing her love, he realized he still loved her. My years of waiting shattered in an instant.

“I waited for you all these years,” I said. He seemed surprised, almost dismissive. Pain and anger surged through me, and I walked out. He followed, apologizing, but I left without a word—just as he had years ago.

Weeks later, I forgave him in my heart. I called Jake and asked him out. From then on, I vowed never to live for anyone but myself.