I assumed college was changing him.

But my life was changing too.

I was training to become a teacher.

I made new friends.

I went on dates.

Still, whenever anything important happened, Jeffrey remained the first person I wanted to tell.

Then, during his second year, he wrote about someone named Margaret.

She was studying nursing.

He said she was funny.

Smart.

Strong-willed.

He even wrote that he thought I would like her.

That was when I finally understood something I should have realized years earlier.

I loved Jeffrey.

I sat on my bedroom floor holding his letter and cried.

Not because he had done anything wrong.

But because I had waited until someone else came along before admitting the truth to myself.

That night, I began writing him a letter.

I wrote several pages.

I told him I loved him.

I told him I suspected I always had.

Then I tore the entire thing apart.

If Jeffrey was happy, I couldn’t bring myself to interfere.

So I continued being his friend.

Until the summer of 1986.

That was when his final letter arrived.

I knew something was wrong the moment I opened it.

Jeffrey usually began every letter with a joke.

This one began simply:

“Ruth,

Margaret and I are getting married. The wedding is in August.”

I sat at the kitchen table staring at those words.

I kept reading.

He explained that the ceremony would be small and that Margaret’s family was helping them begin their life together.

I told myself I could accept that.

Then I reached the last paragraph.

Jeffrey asked me not to contact him anymore.

He wrote that Margaret understood how close we had been and that he wanted to give his marriage the best possible beginning.

He said our friendship mattered too much to him to let it become something capable of hurting another person.

At the bottom, he wrote:

“I hope you have a wonderful life, Ruthie.

I’m sorry.

Jeffrey.”

I cried for weeks.

But I respected his choice.

I didn’t write back.

I didn’t call.

I never tried to see him.

For a while, mutual acquaintances occasionally told me things.

Jeffrey and Margaret had a son.

His career was going well.

Eventually, even those small updates disappeared.

I never married.

I dated.

I had relationships.

Some were good.

One came close to becoming permanent.

Whenever people asked why I never settled down, I gave them the answer that required the least explanation.