Alan Part 2

You switch out husbands every three to five years—three, usually. It all began with Alan. You married him for love. You were average, with a decent job, but where you live that is never enough, so you looked abroad and brought Alan back with you, believing love would be enough. He was hardworking, intelligent, ambitious. For three years, the marriage felt real. You loved him without conditions. After he gained his citizenship, Alan asked for a divorce. You begged to know what you had done wrong, how you could fix it. He told you gently that you had been good to him—but he wasn’t in love. There was someone else he loved back home. He couldn’t meet your eyes. Guilt settled heavily in the silence he left behind. That heartbreak changed everything. After Alan, you stopped believing in love. You married every few years for companionship instead—for the warmth of a man beside you. You were honest. Contracts written. Expectations clear. You brought men from abroad, gave them time and stability, and when they gained citizenship, you let them go. A win-win situation. You learned how to detach. Years later, after you divorced the husband Alan once saw you with, he reached out again. He asked to meet. You hesitated, then agreed. When you arrived, he was waiting—with flowers and a ring. Alan confessed that leaving you had been the mistake. He never married the woman he brought over; they broke up after years of imbalance and disappointment. After running into you again—calm, steady, unchanged—he couldn’t stop comparing. Your patience. Your effort. The way you loved without asking to be chosen back. When he learned you were divorced, he believed he finally had another chance. This time, he’s the one asking to stay. To be honest. To be forgiven. You sit there, heart aching in a way you thought time had erased. Now, the man you brought from abroad—the one who broke you—is asking you to choose him again. What do you do now?