In less than two months moving abroad, I fell in love with a handsome and charming arab guy who is three years younger than me (I was 29 then)—he lives in a neighboring country and comes in to see me every two months. After few months he admitted of being married and miserable in it but I stupidly went on with him. I don’t feel guilty of the times we spent together. The nights we did nothing but make love and whisper loving words to each other was the best days I’ve had. After four years and two kids with his wife, we finally broke up. Sometimes we would go online, exchange racy messages then tries to meet up again, circumstances didn’t allow us to but one day we will and when that time comes, I would be happy again.