Tracy Bielby, 45, from Lyndoch, SA, shares her heartwrenching story:
I was about to switch off the light on my bedside table when I heard a soft knocking on my window. Rising to my feet, I drew back the curtain and saw my boyfriend, Stephen, standing outside in the dark.
“Quick,” I whispered, pushing up the window so he could climb through.
Although I’d known Stephen, 16, since he was a kid, I was only 14 and my parents wouldn’t let me have a boyfriend. We had to hide our relationship, stealing quick kisses in secret.
Stephen was my first love and I couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend. He had an infectious smile that could light up a room and he treated me like a princess.
For two years, we hid our love.
“I wish I could buy you flowers,” he sighed.
“It’s too risky,” I frowned. “I’d only have to throw them away.”
Lucky for me, my parents were good friends with Stephen’s mum so they thought nothing of it when I said I was going to the grocery store with him.
Stephen was my first love.
They didn’t know that some nights I’d escape to the disco where Stephen was the DJ! While everyone was dancing to INXS, I’d stand by his side love-struck.
I’m the luckiest girl in the room, I thought, looking at the other teens hoping to catch the attention of boys.
Then one day, when I was at the fast-food shop where I worked part time, my workmate Julie was gushing about her new boyfriend.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Stephen,” she said, grinning. “He’s a DJ.”
My stomach sunk when I made the connection. She was talking about my Stephen.
The sense of betrayal overwhelmed me. He was my soulmate, the boy I’d marry and grow old with. I’d known him ever since I was four years old!
That afternoon when I finished my shift, I asked Julie to come outside with me.
Stephen pulled up in his Holden to collect me, but as soon as he saw the two of us standing together he drove off.
“I’m sorry babe,” he pleaded when I saw him later.
I didn’t want to hear a word of it.
I found a new boyfriend, but couldn’t bring myself to fully let go of Stephen. In the end, I cheated on my new man with Stephen. I was doing exactly what Stephen had done to me.
I was horrified when I discovered I was pregnant a few months later.
I was only 16
Mum and Dad will kill me.
“This could be your child,” I told Stephen, though I didn’t know for sure.
I’d already broken up with the guy I’d been dating and knew we wouldn’t rekindle our relationship, no matter what.
Trembling with fear, I went to hospital and gave birth to a beautiful girl, Emma.
My heart melted the second I saw her, but my joy was short lived. After choking on her vomit, she had to be resuscitated and placed in ICU for two weeks. She nearly died.
I wanted Stephen there to hold me and tell me everything would be okay. But when he did turn up one day, memories of his affair flooded back.
“I’ll love the baby even if she’s not mine,” he said.
“Stay out of my life,” I told him angrily.
For the next three years, I ploughed on as a single mum, focussing on Emma.
I raised Emma on my own.
One day when I was at a family gathering, we started to reminisce about the old times.
“We all used to play together in the street,” I recalled.
Stephen’s name came up in the conversation. I’d tried not to think much about him.
“Stephen’s dead,” a family member said. “He got caught in a rip in the sea. They tried to save him, but it was too late.”
Suddenly, my body started trembling.
I didn’t want my family to see me upset, so I left the room and cried so hard that it hurt.
He’d been my first love, my best friend. I’d never really stopped loving him, even if I’d told myself otherwise.
“Why did I push him away?” I scolded myself.
He’d promised to stick around and raise Emma with me and I’d rejected him just because of one mistake he made when he was a teenager.
Looking at Emma’s blue eyes and blonde hair, I knew she wasn’t Stephen’s, but I wished with all my heart that she was.
I dug through my cupboards and found the only picture I had of us. It was a black and white one taken when we were kids.
“I should have let you stay,” I sobbed, stroking the image of his face and wishing I could turn back the clock.
The only photo I had of Stephen and me.
After grieving for months, I tried to move on, and started dating other men. Eventually, I settled down with a nice guy.
If I was honest with myself, his striking physical resemblance to Stephen was part of what drew me to him. When Emma was seven, I had a son, David.
But my relationship with his father didn’t last. For many years, I was content to be alone with my beautiful children.
I accepted I’d likely spend the rest of my life single, so I dedicated all my time to my kids.
One day, I was dropping David off at primary school when someone in the distance caught my eye. I felt a chill run down my spine, as I stared at man in a wheelchair who was the spitting image of Stephen. It was like I’d just seen a ghost.
Other cars were backing up behind me, so I couldn’t wait.
As I pulled away, I tried to look closer, but he was pushing himself in the other direction. It shook me up because he really was identical.
Was my mind playing a cruel trick?
It had to be…didn’t it?
NEXT WEEK…
Tracey makes a shock discovery!
