I woke up in our tent to find Andrew’s sleeping bag empty. I slipped out of the tent to search for him, following faint sounds across the camp. What I discovered turned my world upside down in the most horrifying way possible.
My life was pretty good before that camping trip.
I had a job I loved at a marketing firm, a cozy apartment in the city, and I’d just celebrated my first wedding anniversary with Andrew.
We’d met at a rock climbing gym two years earlier, and I still remember thinking he was the most athletic guy I’d ever seen.
“You’re new here,” he’d said, watching me struggle with a beginner route. “Want some tips?”
“I’m that obvious, huh?” I’d laughed.
“Only because you’re trying to muscle through it,” he’d said with a grin. “Climbing is more about technique than strength.”
He was right, of course. Andrew was always right about sports stuff.
He taught me how to read the wall and how to breathe through the difficult moves. What started as climbing lessons turned into coffee dates, then weekend hikes, and then something deeper.
Andrew had been going through a rough time when we met. He’d just broken up with his girlfriend of three years.
“She cheated on me,” he’d told me one evening as we sat by a lake after a long hike. “I caught her with some guy from her work. Said it didn’t mean anything, but how do you come back from that?”
My heart had broken for him. He looked so hurt, so lost. I’d wanted to wrap him up and protect him from ever feeling that pain again.
“I’m sorry,” I’d said. “That’s terrible. No one deserves that.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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