Our friends joke that we’ll probably get married. We’ve been together almost three years, we travel together, and we rarely argue in public. I understand why they see us that way. They don’t know about the messages, or that I’ve been quietly helping the woman who sent them.
About eight months ago, a notification appeared on his phone while he was asleep. It was from his ex. I opened it, although I knew I shouldn’t, and found conversations he’d never mentioned.
He’d always described their breakup as mutual. Now he was telling her he missed their old life, wondered what would have happened if they’d stayed together, and wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision. The messages weren’t exactly romantic. They still made me feel sick.
The next morning, I acted normally. A few days later, I found her on social media. She’d lost her job, moved back in with her parents, and seemed to be having a difficult time. I sent her a message saying I knew about their conversations and what he’d been saying behind my back.
She was kind. She apologized for being involved and said she had no intention of coming between us. We kept talking occasionally. Eventually, I helped her find a job through someone I knew and encouraged her to apply for an apartment she’d been considering.
Over the next few months, things improved for her. My boyfriend carried on as usual. He still occasionally checked her profile, but he never brought up their conversations. I never told him about mine.
Then, one evening, she messaged to say she wanted to thank me in person. Despite how uncomfortable everything had been, she said, I’d treated her better than he ever had. I cried reading it. I’d put so much effort into helping someone he apparently hadn’t finished missing.
I still haven’t confronted him. Sometimes keeping this secret feels immature. Sometimes I want him to experience a little of the uncertainty he handed me without knowing it. Neither feeling has turned into a conversation.
I don’t hate her. I hope she finds someone wonderful, and I’m glad her life is getting better. When our friends talk about marriage, though, I’m no longer sure I want the future they’re picturing. I don’t want to keep wondering whether he wishes he were living a different one.
