Years later, I still can't move on from the man who broke me

I'm a 23-year-old Muslim woman, and this is something I've never told anyone.

Back in 2022, a guy who was somewhat related to me started messaging me on Instagram and later on Snapchat. We became very close friends. In the beginning, we used to chat all the time. He was the first guy who ever showed me that kind of attention and affection.

Eventually, he proposed to me, and I accepted. I genuinely believed he loved me and would marry me one day.

Soon after, he started asking me to do sexual chatting. At first, I was uncomfortable and didn't want to. But he would call me late at night and keep asking. Eventually, I gave in. Every time I did, I felt guilty and full of regret afterward. But I convinced myself that if I did what he wanted, he would always stay with me and eventually marry me.

One day I asked him seriously about marriage and whether he really saw a future with me. That's when his true colors started showing. He became distant, ignored my texts and calls, and treated me as if I was nobody. Meanwhile, I was deeply in love with him.

There was also a girl from his college whom he claimed was just his best friend. She was Muslim too. I noticed similarities between their profiles and bios and started becoming suspicious. Whenever I asked him about her, he avoided the conversation. He also never allowed me to touch his phone.

Even after treating me badly, I stayed attached to him. Looking back, I think it was because he was the first person who made me feel wanted.

One day he asked if we could go for a drive and meet. He said he had always wanted to hug me at least once. I don't know which unhealed part of me agreed. Maybe I thought he would change. Maybe I thought he would finally love me the way I wanted to be loved.

He drove us to a secluded place with hills around and very few people nearby. We sat together and eventually moved to the back seat so we could hug properly. He hugged me very tightly and things started becoming physical. He kissed my cheeks and then tried to kiss my lips.

I stopped him and told him that I felt we were doing something wrong and that it wasn't allowed in our religion. He argued that we were both adults and that it was okay.

We argued for a while. I brought up the girl from his college again and asked questions. He got angry. Eventually, he left me there and told me to find my own way back because he had work to do. I remember crying and begging him to talk to me properly. He left shouting at me.

That day I cried more than I ever had before.

The next day he acted completely normal, while I was panicking and feeling guilty about everything that had happened.

The truth is that I always wanted someone who would support me emotionally. I grew up in a toxic family environment and always wanted a person with whom I could share my feelings at the end of the day.

A few months later, he contacted me again. Mostly late at night.

I replied.

The conversations slowly became sexual again. He sent me intimate photos and asked me to send photos of myself too. Looking back, I regret every bit of it.

Eventually, we planned to meet again. He promised me that this time we would just talk, eat at a restaurant, and have an honest conversation. He said there would be nothing physical.

Instead, he drove to the same secluded place.

We hugged again. Things became physical again. We kissed. He touched me intimately, and I responded in ways I now regret. In those moments, whenever he came close to me, I felt unable to control my emotions. I kept hoping that somehow this would make him love me the way I loved him.

At one point he revealed that he had even brought protection with him and asked if we could go further. That immediately scared me, and I stopped everything there.

We never had sex.

Afterward, we went to a restaurant. What shocked me most was how differently he treated me there. I asked him to sit beside me, but he refused. Whenever I tried talking to him, he barely responded. He acted irritated by my presence.

I remember sitting there wondering how someone could be affectionate one moment and treat me like a stranger the next.

This cycle repeated itself several times between 2023 and 2025. Every time I told myself it would be the last time. Every time I hoped he would change.

He never did.

In 2025, I finally stopped all contact with him. I never texted him again, and he never texted me either.

Yet even today, I still think about him multiple times a day.

Not because I believe he was good for me.

Not because I want him back.

But because I became attached to him. Maybe I became attached to the idea of being loved. Maybe I confused attention with love and physical affection with emotional commitment.

As a Muslim woman, I carry a lot of guilt and regret. There isn't a single day when I don't wish I had protected my boundaries better. I have repented and continue asking Allah for forgiveness, but I still struggle with the shame and regret.

I worry about whether I'll ever fully move on. I worry whether these memories will affect my future marriage.

I don't really talk to men anymore. I have a very small circle and a few close school friends with whom I share almost everything. Yet I've never been able to tell anyone this story.

A part of me still longs for the kind of love I deserved all along—someone who understands me, gives me time, effort, emotional support, and genuine care.

I don't know why I'm posting this. Maybe I just needed to tell someone.

If you've read this far, thank you.