This is my first Reddit post, so please forgive me if it’s rough around the edges. I (M18 at the time) was dating this girl for 2 years and 4 months. We met in high school just a month before graduation. She had only been in the U.S. for a few years, and her English was rough, but it didn’t matter when we were together. From day one, we clicked. We were perfect together.
Dating was strictly prohibited in both our families and cultures, but we made it work. We found time and made excuses to see each other every day. Within weeks, we were in love.
Then my family found out—after catching me asleep on FaceTime with her. I got chewed out, but after a few days I convinced them it was just a friendship. Obviously, that wasn’t true. Her family never knew about me, except for her younger sister.
That summer, I left town and we did long-distance for about two months. I started to see signs of mistrust in her, but like an idiot in my first relationship, I ignored them because I loved her. My family, however, saw it clearly and told me their concerns. When I returned, we were even closer, but she required me to constantly send her snaps of what I was doing. I complied, thinking I just needed to prove I was trustworthy. Looking back, I know now that real trust doesn’t work like that.
When I came back, I moved about 1.5 hours away to start college. She was finishing high school online and would come visit me at school about twice a week, sometimes more. Around this time, we slept together for the first time—something that’s completely forbidden in our culture. But I had already told her I planned to marry her after undergrad and that I wanted a future with her. That was the plan: graduate early (which I did), go to med school, and marry her.
Neither of us liked the distance, and by spring semester, she made the decision to move to my college town—into my dorm—lying to her family and saying she was attending the same university. She wasn’t. She planned to start at the community college online and go home for tests biweekly. At first, living together felt perfect. But soon it became clear it wasn’t.
She began picking fights over the smallest things. She was deeply jealous and held contempt for my family. When we argued, she would yell, scream, throw objects, and hit me. I’m 6’1”, 240 lbs. She was 5’2”, 105 lbs. But it still hurt—physically and emotionally. I never once yelled back or lost my temper. I studied neuroscience and prided myself on staying calm and collected. But I stayed with her, thinking maybe it was just her birth control or stress. We’d fight, make up, and repeat.
Still, I kept my 4.0 GPA and we both went home for the summer. We saw each other nearly every day, but she was never happy about it and was clearly upset whenever I spent time with my family. She traveled back to her home country that summer, and I supported her. But when I went on vacation with my family, she constantly picked fights, accusing me of being disloyal, not giving her enough attention, and generally making the entire trip emotionally exhausting. This became a pattern—every vacation, every family visit.
Despite everything, I stayed. I loved her. When the summer ended, we returned to live together again. But this time was worse. The fights were louder. The abuse escalated. I saw my grades start to slip, and I realized this situation was no longer sustainable. I told her that I couldn’t keep living together like this. It was hurting my academics, and it was toxic.
She moved back home, telling her family she transferred to another college. The truth was, she had only done one semester of college online and never took it seriously. But that’s not why she moved back. She moved back because I needed space to focus and because our living situation had become too destructive.
That summer, she went back to her home country again. When she returned, I could tell something was off. Eventually, she admitted that her family had been trying to set her up with a husband. She said she might have to formally meet someone. I was stunned, but she reassured me it meant nothing and she would turn him down, which her family would respect. She did turn him down—but the suitor talk didn’t stop.
Meanwhile, I returned for my final year of undergrad. Just two weeks in, completely out of the blue, she texted me that we might need to break up. We had talked about that being a possibility over the summer, but agreed not to. I called her immediately, and we had one of the most painful conversations of my life. It was technically mutual, but it was brought on entirely by her. We both agreed that if we didn’t go no-contact, we’d never stop being together. So that was it.
The timing couldn’t have been worse—I was just days away from taking the MCAT, after studying for 3.5 months.
We went about a month without talking. Then she reached out in tears. I comforted her, and she said something that stuck with me: “You should’ve tried harder to stop me from leaving.” I told her, “I would’ve stood by you until the day I died—if you hadn’t left.” I could tell that hit her hard. She kept pushing to see me again—for just a hug. I declined. She kept trying for weeks.
Eventually, I broke. For the first time ever, I yelled. I told her how much she hurt me, how hard it had been, and how I couldn’t keep throwing myself under the bus to make her feel better anymore. That was the last time we spoke.
Recently, I found out she got married. It’s been 10 months since the breakup. I’m over her. I’m starting medical school in a month and I couldn’t be more excited. I was finally able to enjoy my last year of college—I made amazing friends, had real experiences, and finally lived life on my own terms.
I’ve forgiven her for everything she did. But I still think about everything that happened and wonder—did I actually do anything wrong? Was there something in me that allowed it to go that far? I don’t regret how it ended, but I’m still figuring out whether there’s anything I need to forgive myself for.
TL;DR:
I (M18 at the time) dated a girl for over 2 years in secret due to cultural restrictions. We lived together during college, but the relationship became toxic and abusive. I eventually asked her to move out so I could focus on school. She later broke up with me unexpectedly, then reached out wanting me back. I refused, and we haven’t spoken since. She’s now married, and while I’ve moved on, I still think about everything that happened and wonder if I did something wrong.