We'd dated for a few weeks, then came to the conclusion that we weren't made for each other. But the sex was good, so we'd keep having sex because why not. For two years we tried to convince our friends that we weren't a couple. Then she met the love of her life, and we were still having sex while working together on her little project to seduce him. She succeeded! But she didn't want to mess it up! He was young! He was inexperienced! She wanted it to be perfect!

Then she was raped by some fucking sick stranger.

She couldn't gather the strength to tell her man who was studying abroad, so I did what a friend would do and let her "use" me to heal. I simply held her in the sleepless nights for the year that followed and eventually went with her to court, helped her face her aggressor and see him get sentenced to jail for what he had done to her and several other women over the years.

She gradually rebuilt enough strength to let/make me touch her again. Once she felt she was "ready", she told me she wanted it to be the last time. She felt cured, body and soul, and could at long last bury her past, and focus 100% for the man of her dreams. Even if that meant burying me as well. I was 100% cool with it. It's foolish to try to top those few years of friendship between us, and it's foolish to think I could stay around without damaging the things that we spent so much effort building and rebuilding.

We actually became coworkers later on by happenstance and we managed to keep it purely professional. She needed a job for a year and had the skills we were looking for, so I forwarded her resume and she got the job. Once she got back on track, and once her husband finished his studies, they both left the country and had beautiful babies :)

It hurts to think about it, because it comes with so many memories of her simply hurting a lot. But I'm genuinely happy for them - this story is one of the things I'm most proud in my life.