- The Untold Love Story of Pope Francis and the Girl Who Could’ve Been First Lady of the Vatican
Before the white robes, before the papal blessings, and long before he became the moral compass of the Catholic world, Pope Francis was just Jorge Mario Bergoglio—a teenager in love. And her name was Amalia Damonte.
In the quiet streets of Flores, a modest Buenos Aires neighborhood, a youthful love bloomed between two 12-year-olds who spent their days playing on sidewalks and dancing in the parks. Jorge was no ordinary boy. Even back then, he was described as “mature and wonderful” by Amalia, the girl who held his heart. Their bond wasn’t just youthful flirtation—it was, in her words, “soulmate” deep.
They wrote letters, they dreamed, and in one of those handwritten notes—penned in tender devotion—Jorge made a declaration that would one day echo through history:
“If I don’t marry you, I’ll become a priest.”
It wasn’t said in jest. It was a promise. A crossroad moment captured in ink. He even sketched out their future—a small house with a red roof and white walls. It was to be their forever.
But fate had other plans.
Amalia’s parents found the letters and put a hard stop to their childhood courtship. “My mother gave me a beating,” Amalia later recalled. Heartbroken, she begged Jorge not to contact her again.
It was a moment that would define both their lives.
True to his word, Jorge Mario Bergoglio turned heartbreak into calling. He entered the seminary, was ordained before his 33rd birthday, and slowly rose through the ranks of the Catholic Church. Then, in 2013, he stunned the world by becoming Pope Francis—the first Jesuit Pope, the first from the Americas, and the first to choose the name of the saint of the poor.
But behind the legacy of simplicity, compassion, and global reverence was a love story that nearly led him down a different path—a red-roofed one, with Amalia.
As the world now mourns his passing on April 21 at the age of 88, dignitaries gathered in St. Peter’s Square. Millions wept for the Pope.
Yet somewhere far from Rome, in Argentina, is a woman who once held his hand and shared childhood dreams. Not of altars and incense, but of a little house, of dancing, and of a love that almost was.
And while the world knew him as Pope Francis, she knew him simply as Jorge—the boy who chose heaven over her.
