rSlash - r/Bestof I Reunited with My True Love After 10 Years of Prison

Episode Date: April 23, 2023

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I'm a 35 year old man and I was incarcerated and lost touch with a girl who's 33 now. It's been over 10 years. Would it be wrong to contact her? When I was a university student, I fell in love with Daria. She was the little sister of my best friend, so I considered her off limits. But my crush on her persisted and grew. She's one of those beautiful, brilliant people who's alive and breathing to make the world a better place.

How could I not be drawn to that? One day, she told me that she had feelings for me. And to my relief, my best friend didn't have a problem with me dating a sister either. So for two wonderful years, Dario was my girlfriend. I should have asked her to marry me. I don't know why I didn't. I suppose I thought that I had all the time in the world. We were young and there was no need to rush things.

We lived in a country that isn't exactly democratic and we were political activists. I ended up getting arrested and going to prison for nine years. Please don't think that I'm some kind of monster for this. I don't want to go into detail in case it makes me identifiable somehow, but we didn't hurt anyone or do anything immoral. What we did isn't even illegal, and our beliefs were far from extremist. I haven't spoken to Darius since the day that I got

arrested. My best friend died shortly after, and Darius left the country, partly due to the possibility that she'd be arrested too. There wasn't any way for her to contact me while I was in prison, though apparently she contacted my dad a few times in the beginning. Things got even worse in our country while I was incarcerated, so my dad and I immigrated when I was released. We've been living in Western Europe ever since, and life is pretty okay. I live with my dad, and I have a steady, if awful, job.

Months ago, I found Darya online. She lives in a neighboring country, seven hours away by rail. She doesn't use social media too much, but from what I've seen, there's no evidence of a partner or kids. And even if she's married, I'd be content just to be your friend as I was for the first few years that we knew each other. Part of me desperately wants to reach out to her. And my dad has been encouraging me to do so, but I feel like it'd be too selfish. The circumstances of her brother's death were very traumatic for her, and I'm afraid that I'm just a living reminder of all the bad things that happened to us. And if she does have a partner, would my contacting her offend him and cause trouble in their

relationship? I don't want to cause her any more sadness. Time stood still for me while I was in prison, but I know that it didn't for her or anyone else. She's done so well for herself. She's built a whole life, and I don't want to derail that life just because I feel entitled to a place in it. She might not even remember me at all. And even if she did invite me back into her life, I'd be nothing but a burden now, owing to my rect mental health. We've been apart twice as long as I knew her. Do I even have the right to miss her as much as I do?

For now, I've contented myself with googling her name every so often and seeing that she's okay. It just hurts a lot, and I don't know how to make it not hurt. I still love her with everything I have. I probably always will. Should I reach out to her or leave her alone? If I do contact her, what should I even say? Then one day later, OP posted an update. First, he thinks everyone on Reddit for telling

him to reach out, and that's exactly what he did. I sent Darya a message the evening after I made my post. It was something like, I don't mean to intrude, but I just wanted to say hello, and I thought that I would give you my new contact information in case she ever felt like getting in touch. If not, that's completely fine too. I left her my phone number and email address, wished her well, and that was that. I knew it might be a while before she responded, if she responded at all, so I tried to put it out of my mind. Early Monday morning, my phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number from the country where Daria lives.

Who else would ever be calling me from there? I panicked a little bit, but I managed to answer in time. She asked a few times if it was really me, and I couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying. Oh, this is getting so sweet! At first, she called me by the very affectionate version of my name that she used to call me, but then she quickly apologized and corrected herself, which broke my heart a little bit. It was an awkward phone call, but not in a bad way. I was extremely nervous, and it seemed like she was too, but also happy.

Some of you mentioned that Dario would want to know if I was safe, and this was more true than I could have guessed. Because unrest in my country increased a lot during the year that I was in prison, she was afraid that they would decide to quietly kill me rather than let me go. There are documented cases of other prisoners like me having met very suspicious ends in the months before my release. So it wasn't a totally unreasonable worry. She also said that she repeatedly tried to send me parcels of supplies and put money on my commissary account, but her attempts were rejected without explanation. Yo you guys, this is like a movie.

This is like a drama slash romance romance, slash. I wouldn't know how the story ends. After my sin-ancing, I wasn't allowed to receive correspondence or to have a commissary count at all because of the classification of my crimes. So, she was forced to give up. She told me this like it was an apology, as if I would have been disappointed for her not helping me more. I had no idea that she had done any of that. I do know that that was not the safe thing for her to do, and I feel terrible that she

put herself at risk trying to make me a little bit more comfortable. She didn't seem to want to talk about what happened any more than that, and so we didn't. We changed the subject to more lighthearted things. Our jobs, the cities where we live, how my dad is adapting to a new country, etc. When she arrived at work and had to end the phone call, she asked if I wanted to continue talking through a messaging app. Obviously, I said yes and downloaded it immediately. We sent messages throughout the day and she even interrupted her commute home to send me

a picture of a restaurant modeled after one of my favorite books, just because she thought that I would like it. She told me that she thought of me every time she saw it. But unfortunately, the restaurant itself wasn't very good. I was afraid that she wouldn't remember me, but she even remembers the things I like to read. She remembers a lot of little things, even stuff that I forgot. We've been sending messages back and forth ever since, and talking on the phone after I finish work at night until she gets too sleepy. Sometimes, it feels like I'm 24, and she's texting me from a few blocks away, as if the next thing she might ask is what's for dinner.

Other times, it seems like we're trying to will-did versions of ourselves back to life in order to avoid acknowledging what we've lost. She seems a lot more timid than she used to be. More passive. Which I suppose makes sense. Sometimes I worry about how much I've changed, and that maybe she won't find anything left in me that's worthy of her. But if I could express in words what it feels like to hear her laugh, I could explain that

there's also a lot that we know very well. She hasn't lost her kindness or her warmth or her empathy. She still cares about me and I still care about her. I know that rebuilding a friendship after all that's happened will take a lot of patience, and I have plenty to spare. I'm just happy to have the chance to get to know her again. This morning, Doria asked me if I wanted to have a video call sometime this weekend. I agreed, but I'm ashamed to admit that as much as I want to see her, I'm very nervous. I look so different than she would remember. My jaw is messed up, and I have the teeth

of a hockey player. I lost weight that I haven't put back on, and I see an old man in the mirror. I'm also worried that I'll get very emotional when I see her and embarrass myself that way. I don't really cry in front of people. I'm not used to it, and this doesn't seem like a good occasion to start. Aside from not wanting to appear pitiful, I don't want her to feel forced to comfort me. If anyone has advice on how to handle this, it would be much appreciated. Overall, this week could not have gone better, and I'm extremely grateful to everyone who gave me the little push of courage I needed to send her that message.

A thousand times, thank you. And then, two months later, O.P. Post had an update. I told Darya that I was nervous about the video call, and she insisted on having it right away so that I could get it over with and stop worrying. Seeing her made everything feel real in a way that it hadn't before. She still looks like herself, or even more beautiful, different only in the sense that now she's a full adult. The place she lives is very different from

our home country, with the distinct culture to which she's assimilated. The fact that she had time to adapt and feel completely at home in this new country broke the illusion that no time had passed. In hindsight, that was probably the real reason I'd been so nervous, because I could no longer occasionally forget myself and pretend that nothing had changed. The hardest part was not being able to reach through the screen and put my arms around her. Sitting there and watching someone you love cry from a distance isn't easy.

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C.A. for contest details, while supplies last. She didn't seem surprised at my appearance, but she did eventually look me over and ask if the food was bad where I lived. I explained about my jaw and that I'm getting it fixed. Her response was to ask her my address and order groceries to be delivered, including a lot of soft snacks that are easy to eat, as well as these meal substitution drinks that are actually tasty. She sent them to me every week since, even though I tell her that it's not necessary. When I tried to pay her back, she laughed at me and said that she owed me a lot of food because I had kept her from starving to death in university. I loved being able to cook for her, and I suppose that it makes her just as happy to feed me now.

We talk every day, and we've made video calls a regular habit. It does me so much good just to see your face, and the awkwardness is mostly gone now. It's so easy to talk to her. Last night, she brought her computer into the kitchen and talked to me while doing the dishes. It's amazing how mundane things like that can make me feel normal and at home in ways that I forgot I could. I never thought that I'd be that stupidly happy

to see someone washing coffee cups. I'm beginning to think that the idea of home as a physical place is a misconception. She likes to send photos to show me where she lives, what her life is like now. She was curious about how things are the same or different here. I didn't want to admit that I don't have much of a life to share back. Going places just didn't seem worth the effort. She is worth the effort though. At first it was small things. She would send a picture of a pastry she bought at a cafe, saying that she thinks her city had better pastries than mine. Then I would go out

and get one so I could send her a photo too. Then it was beer, which city has better parks, interesting architecture, a department store, and so on. I quickly figured out that she was trying to coax me into getting out more, but I played along to make her happy. I've seen more of my city in the past month than the entire time that I'd lived here before. I've been to the art museum and finally joined my colleagues for a beer. Dario used to be very sociable, so I thought that whatever happened, at least she wouldn't be lonely, but I was wrong. There was a lot that she could never tell her friends because they can't relate.

They would feel sorry for her and cease to be equal, she says. Her and my experiences are different, but we're more able to understand each other than other people could. And despite her own burdens, she's quietly picked up half the weight for my shoulders without ever being asked to. I'm in awe of her, simply for being the kind of person who would. For Women's Day, I sent her some orchids, and she was very happy that I remembered her favorite flower. The things I can do to make her smile are so small, and she deserves so much more than I know how to give her. But I would do anything for this woman, and I'm learning. There are protests happening where she is, with riot police and tear gas.

Whenever this happens, she feels nervous and has difficulty sleeping. Now, at least, I can stay on the phone with her at night so she's not alone. Aside from the anxiety, there's also a sense of nostalgia. She talks about when that was us making noise in the street. I'm glad that she has good memories too, and doesn't have to be alone with them anymore. Finally, the reason I'm updating now is she's coming to visit! She's coming to visit! This is the most excited I am to read an update in my life. We were talking last night, and I mentioned that a church near me has special windows designed by an artist she loves, and I was thinking about going to see them eventually.

She said that it would be unfair of me to go without her, so I invited her to come with me. And then, somehow, it turned from vague future plans to being scheduled for next Saturday. She was going to come for the day, but I told her it was silly to travel so far to stay for such a short time. And I suggested she stay for the entire weekend. Hehe, ooh I see where this is going! So, she'll be here from Friday until Sunday. I haven't really had the time to be nervous yet, but I'm sure I will. Oh God, this was so sweet, so sweet.

I love how OP is like, what do you say? Somehow it turned from big future plans to being scheduled for next Saturday. He says somehow, as if he doesn't know the reason why it happened, is because she is thirsty. She is ready, she's been waiting. OP, she wasn't asking about the pastries

because she wants to know what the pastries are like. She was saying the pastries are better in her city as an invitation to come try them with her, but apparently O.P. wasn't picking up the hints, so she went all Thanos and was like, fine, I'll do it myself. And God on her train to go visit O.P. there. Here's a question for you guys. Are they even gonna make it to the church with the fancy windows? Are this gonna be 48 hours of non-stop passionate hugging and crying and remembering the good old days? O.P., you might wanna stock your fridge with some gatorade, some snacks, just, you know, they might come in handy.

I hope everything works out for both of you because honestly, you sound like soulmates. Also in case people are curious, down in the comments a lot of people are speculating that O.P. is from Belarus and Darya is currently in France. Our next Reddit post comes from R-slash drew off my chest. I finally told my sister that no one cares that she's a rainbow baby and it was cathartic. My sister is 27 and a rainbow baby and it was cathartic. My sister is 27 and a rainbow baby. Basically, my parents had multiple miscarriages before having her, and she tells everyone about

it and it's so effing annoying. She fell into the traditional wife slash crunchy mom trend thing in 2020 when the pandemic hit and became really pro life. Always with the argument that as a rainbow baby, I won every baby to live because I lost multiple older siblings and mourned them every day. And I could have died myself. BS like that.

Every time that she's at a family event, she always finds a way to bring it up. The dreaded politics debate happened, and she spewed right wing pro-life talking points and backed it all up by talking about how she's a rainbow baby and I was sick of it. I told her, sis, no one cares that you were a rainbow baby. You're 27! You need to forget about it! Pick a new argument because no one effing cares. You're not a cute little miracle. You're an adult." She ran off with her husband and the conversation moved on from politics.

I'm so glad that I bit the bullet and told her. We haven't gotten along in years, so I couldn't care less if she never wants to speak to me again because of what I said. Good riddance, if anything. Okay, thanks for explaining OP because I have no idea what a crunchy mom is. OP explains traditional wife is well traditional wife and a crunchy mom is a mom who's all natural so no processed food, vaccines and all that jazz. It's exhausting and my sister has a massive superiority complex over not letting her kids eat sugar and giving them essential

oils instead of taking them to the doctor. Then four days later, OP Posts in an update. I've been laughing for the last three days. Once my sister ran off, she apparently called our mom to tattle on me. My mom's been skipping family events where my sister will attend for a while because my sister always brings up politics and her reasons for being pro-life. Here's basically their conversation. Mom, OP told me that no one cares that I'm a rainbow baby.

No one does care. You're a grown woman. You didn't even start caring until 2017 when you learned what a rainbow baby was. It's an important part of who I am. It really isn't. OP is right. No one cares. You weren't born when I had my miscarriages. If anyone other than me and your father should care, OP should because he's the one who witnessed them.

I'm the one who nearly died. OP was fine. Actually, you were a healthy baby. Now stop bringing it up. You've been lucky enough to not have any miscarriages yet, so don't jinx it. She hung up, and we haven't heard from her since, though it's a little too soon to tell

if she'll turn up during Easter. My mom called me, and we had a laugh before calling the rest of the family, so everyone could have a laugh at her absurdity. Oh, I love this top comment. Ferry points out something that I didn't even consider, which is she doesn't seem to consider that if the other babies had lived, then she'd likely never would have been born at all.

That's true. So, instead of mourning the miscarriages, she should almost be celebrating them as macabre as that is.