This story discusses suicidal ideation and could be triggering for some readers.
I started my relationship with my ex-boyfriend of five years when I was still in high school; he was a bit older than me and at uni. He was (and is) so smart and motivated; I was absolutely infatuated with him from the moment we first met.
I'd known his previous relationship ended badly after he'd kissed a few (four) girls while he had a girlfriend, so I wasn't totally unaware that he had the capacity to cheat. He assured me he'd changed, worked on himself and was ready to fully commit again. I however, was slightly sceptical, but started a relationship anyway, with some underlying trust issues. Despite that, in my eyes, he was still absolutely perfect.
We'd grown up together, supported each-other through uni degrees, moving houses, family drama and through our first real 'career' jobs. I genuinely thought for a long time that we were going to get married, and he also convinced me of that.
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The day before we were due to go on holiday together, we sat down with his parents and he'd asked them if he could move back in with them so he could save some money for a house deposit, so we could buy a place together.
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