I understand why you did it.
Why you texted him to come up to your room. Having dated him for a year, I know how magnetic he can be. The way that he looks at you when you talk – it feels like he saved up a lifetime of intensity just for you.
You see, the second I met him, I knew I was going to fall in love with him. It was effortless, the way it just… happened. In a split second, my world went Technicolor and all I could think about was how wonderful it was going to be being his girlfriend. And it really, really was. He didn’t disappoint at all.
So, I get it. It was a work retreat, you both had too much to drink. I was sick and in surgery, and he was stressed out thinking about my long road to recovery. You said you didn’t intend for it to happen, but I know what it’s like, seeing an opportunity and grabbing hold of it. The feeling that, for one brief instant, he could be yours. I sympathize for how you must have felt in that moment. I was you a year ago.
The problem is that what happened that night couldn’t be erased. We both couldn’t forget the terrible mistake he made. And I can cope with the fact that, as someone with a terminal illness, I’ve lost my main support system. I can learn to forgive both of you for how much worse this recovery has actually been, given the introduction of this unnecessary stress. One day, I might even see what happened as a blessing in disguise.
Because someone who says that they love you would never do what he did.
I wish he and I could have stayed in that Technicolor fantasy, because I need him now more than ever. The cancer is getting worse and I don’t have the strength to fight it this time. I simply don’t want to go through it alone.
It’s easy to say your intentions were good. That you didn’t mean for any of this to happen.
But as you look at him, and you feel that powerful gaze, try to remember that you got exactly what you wanted, and the cost for it was ruining another person’s life.