He was the answer – the answer to all my prayers, the answer to all my lonely nights and the answer to my cries. He was the reason – the reason I woke up every morning, the reason I smiled, the reason I lived without a care. He was my everything. Or at least I thought he was.

Let’s take it from the beginning. I was young and inexperienced, with only a year of college under my belt. Then I met him, a man twelve years my senior. He was intelligent, witty, sweet, kind-hearted but with an edge, charming, and sincere. Or at least I thought he was.

We were different, yet very much the same at the core. We had an immediate connection and spent endless days and nights together. It was the kind of connection you only see in the movies, and I never wanted to reach the credits. It happened to be a hard time in his life: he’d just had his heart broken. I knew this, but I wanted to be the one who could change his sadness. I wanted to be the answer to his prayers and the reason he smiled. After all, he had changed me forever. Because of him, I became more confident. He made me more aware of the world and my surroundings. I became more independent and stronger than I had ever been.

Among the many memories I have of us are the times when we would lie down together and listen to music before drifting into a deep rest. It was wonderful, soulful, and soothing. One night, he played a Sade record. When “By Your Side” came on, he squeezed me tighter, and I welcomed his warm embrace. I let the words sink in and began to tear up knowing that at that moment, I was the luckiest girl alive. I knew that I’d never leave him down when he was down on his knees. He had already had his heart crushed, and I swore to myself I wouldn’t do that, not to him.

We went through so much together, and shared several life-changing events, but somehow it wasn’t enough. I’ll never understand why it became my turn for heartache. She came back into the picture (or maybe she never left, I’ll never know). The same woman who broke his heart returned to reclaim it and broke mine in the process. He had cried over this woman while I held him in my arms. Then I was the one who cried because of her.

I will always be thankful for the ways he changed me and the memories we made, but I am resentful for the pain he caused me. He took her back even though she tore out his heart. I’d like to think I would be strong enough to fight him off if he ever came back to me, but here’s a message if he’s out there reading this: if you want to cry, I am here to dry your eyes / and in no time you’ll be fine. No matter how strong I pretend to be, I cannot lie to myself. I caught myself crying in my car on my way to work the other day when “By Your Side” came on the radio, and I pictured us lying together locked in each other’s arms once again.