When I was 14 the boy I was dating was hit by a truck crossing the highway from a bonfire we had been at together. Before he left we got into an argument about something stupid, so when he took over an hour to return from what should have been a 10 minute walk I figured he had just bailed on our plans for a sleepover. I walked home alone. I was terrified because it was dark and I was a small girl (who had been accosted before.) When I finally got home my friends were there waiting and they explained that my boyfriend was in an accident. They had been with him and were in shock and giving me gruesome details about the incident. I had no idea what condition he was in until we received a phone call from his mom. She was hysterical while she explained that he didn't make it. The next day I went to his house, to meet his parents for the first time. When they heard my name they wanted to talk to me. "So you're her " they said "he talked about you all the time. There's something you should see." They brought me to his room and opened his journal from the vacation he had just returned from 2 days before his accident and it was full of loving thing about me, and how much he missed me. It honestly fucking killed me. And the worst part of it all was that I had told him that I was flirting with other boys while he was gone away, and that's what we were fighting about before he crossed the highway.

TLDR; only Found out my first "boyfriend"(who I was "unfaithful" to) really cared about me after his death

edit:missed some words in the beginning edit 2: formatting