He was relaxed, lying on a sofa. Before I could say anything, he uttered the words I was so afraid to hear: “I am married.” All the pain I had bottled up inside for so long broke out with a roar.  How could he do this? How dare he say it to my face so calmly and casually, as if everything we had did not matter?! I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me. I started yelling. Before I knew it, I was breaking and throwing things. One hit his head.

Suddenly, I woke up. It took me a long time to calm down after realizing it was just a dream.

For several months after that, we were in contact, on-again, off-again. He seemed torn between cutting me off completely and committing. I convinced myself that his fear and emotional trauma made him give up on us, so I put up with his repeatedly telling me he could not be with me.

It was short lived. My mind and my heart remained with the man I loved. I reached out to him, tried to recapture our spark. 

But he seemed ill at ease and, even though I wanted him back in my life, it became clear that was not to be. About a month after I broke up with him, he told me he could not accept me for who I was -- my ambitions, my dreams, my nationality.

I didn’t want to believe what I was hearing. His words made me feel underappreciated, worthless and powerless.  

At the time, I started trying to create a new life. I thought that was the end of us. But it wasn’t the end. Not quite, at least.

It was not that he did anything special. He simply was. We simply were. We were living in the moment in a way that I had never managed before. Nothing else mattered. Even after we parted and returned to our normal lives, the spell held. I did not notice or care about troubles at home or work anymore -- the peace I felt helped me make peace with other areas of my life. I could also see him becoming more optimistic about his life.

I waited impatiently for his first visit to my hometown. When he was with me, I felt strong and he felt the same. We could talk for hours and we understood each other’s pain and fears.

We talked about the past, the present and our future together. He wanted to meet my parents, for me to meet his child. He said I was his family.

Even though I had never dreamed of getting married, I started to imagine our life together. Our days together flew by and, when he left, I was already planning for his next visit.

Over the course of our romance, there were some challenges, but we seemed to overcome them so easily. He had been married to a foreign woman before – ironically, she and I shared some common ethnic roots. I knew this was a problem for him, he had already confessed that the thought of another failed marriage, the possibility of having a child in a foreign country, scared him. But it was never an issue for me and I thought we had moved past it.

In addition, the fact that I was foreign was a real concern for his mother, who worried that, once again, her grandchildren would be living far from her.  He had tried at first to hide the fact he had a child, out of fear I would reject him. But I didn’t mind, it wasn’t an issue for me.

Everything seemed fine.

Until he started postponing his visit. With each delay, I could feel the fear growing inside of me. As the excuses piled up, I began to think he didn’t even want to come. It was more than just his changing plans: I felt like I was the only one trying to make our relationship work.

At some point, I got fed up and I broke up with him. He seemed upset, but he didn’t do anything to try and change my mind.

As I sat by the calm sea the next morning staring at the horizon I wondered why was I feeling restless for the first time in days. How could I share my dreams with someone when I struggled to even remember them?  Would he accept me -- an open-minded, confident girl who does not shy away from telling her opinion -- the way I am? 

Was he ready to be an equal partner? And, most importantly, could he be more than all the other people who had hurt me in the past? 

That afternoon, I decided to give him a chance.

For a quarter of a century I had done everything to be a “smart girl.” I had the “perfect” job, I was the “good” daughter. But instead of being happy, my life felt like it was in shambles. My relationship with my parents was strained and I felt trapped in my job. I felt stifled by the expectations of my family and society.

So I decided to give myself the only gift I could: get away from everything and everyone and spend my special day in peace.