Tragic Ending

When I was six, I spilled hot water, slipped, and burned my face. My face was ruined. My parents learned their lesson and never let my younger sister do housework. To everyone they met, they praised her beauty, her charm. They turned to me with nothing but disdain. When I was ten, I had a high fever. They didn't think much of it and let it drag on until my brain was damaged, leaving me slow and dull. They learned their lesson again. From then on, if my sister so much as coughed, they would rush her to the hospital in the dead of night, showering her with care. I was like a failed experiment. Every mistake they made with me, they corrected for her. I was ugly, silent, dim-witted, unwanted. She was beautiful, sweet-talking, clever, adored by all. When I was diagnosed with depression, I gathered what little courage I had and told them. Mom lashed out, called me sick in the head, and accused me of being petty. If I was so capable, she said, I might as well die. It wasn't until my sister pushed me off a high-rise that they found out, by sheer accident, that she wasn't their child at all. I was their one and only biological child.

After eight years of marriage, I finally get pregnant with Claude Frey's child. It's my sixth round of IVF, and my last chance. The doctor says I can't put my body through it again. I'm overjoyed, ready to share the good news with him. But a week before our anniversary, I received an anonymous photo in the mail. In it, he was bending down to kiss another woman's pregnant belly. That woman is his childhood sweetheart, the one his family watched grow up. She's gentle and well-mannered, and the kind of daughter-in-law every parent dreams of. The funniest part is that his entire family knows about her pregnancy, except me. I'm just the punchline in their joke. It turns out that the marriage I've been holding together despite all my wounds is nothing but a carefully crafted lie. Fine. I don't want Claude anymore, and I'll never let my child be born into a world built on lies. I book my ticket to leave on our eighth anniversary. It's also the very day he's supposed to take me to see the sea of roses. Before we got married, he promised me a sea of flowers all my own. But instead, I find him in front of the rose garden, kissing his pregnant childhood sweetheart. After I leave, he starts searching for me everywhere. "Don't go, please?" he begs. "I was wrong. Don't leave." He finally remembers the promise he'd made to me and plants the most beautiful roses in the world in that garden. But I don't need it anymore.

On the day we decided to get a divorce, I saw Miranda’s account book while I was packing up my stuff. Aside from our daily expenses, Miranda had also set up a scoring sheet for me. Miranda had taken notes of all the things I had done ever since we started dating. Some of them were such miniscule things that even I had forgotten. She took note of them all with a red pen, and she scored them by either awarding me points or deducting them. However, the further down the sheet, the more points were deducted. In the end, I saw Miranda add one line in black ink. [He’s no longer the Henry Jones who used to love me: -100]

The Richie Rich who violated my daughter has gotten off unscathed. He sneers and throws a wad of cash in my face. "I'll show you what people mean when they say money makes the world go round!" In that split second, I want to tear him to pieces.

The seventh time I planned to register for marriage with Piero Conrad, he didn't show up again. I was about to text him and ask when he would arrive when I stumbled upon his childhood friend's post. [Celebrating the 999th day since marrying my dear, from the past to the future, it's always been you.] The video showed a marriage certificate, with Piero's name listed as the husband. The registration date was May 20, three years ago. I realized that was why he never showed up those seven times. He was already married to someone else.

We had been dating for ten years before my boyfriend, Shawn Jepson, agreed to marry me.  When the wedding photographer asked us to pose a few kissing shots, Shawn claimed he had germophobia and walked out on me.  I awkwardly apologized to the team.  Taxis were a rare commodity during blizzards, so I trudged through the snow to get home.  To my dismay, I stumbled upon Shawn tongue-deep into his crush’s throat in what was supposed to be our marital home.  “Just say the word, Casey, and I’ll leave Jessica.”  Later, word went around that Shawn searched the world for his ex-fiancee, begging her to return.

Three years ago, I rescued the CEO of the Patton Group. That very night, he appeared at my door with his grandson and proposed marriage. I'd secretly loved the young man for seven long years, so I accepted it without hesitation. For three blissful years, Damian Patton showered me with affection so profound it sparked envy in everyone around us. But the illusion shattered when the Patton family's adopted daughter returned from abroad. I stumbled upon him cradling her tenderly and whispering words of devotion. "Grandpa won't hand over the company until Serena gives birth to an heir. But I don't care about inheritance anymore. I want to marry you now." Harriet Patton's lips curved into a sultry smile. "No rush, darling. I want you to marry me as the rightful heir to the Patton empire. Just promise me you won't fall for her." His eyes softened. "Seven years ago, you pulled me out of that fire. I swore then to love you forever." Those words crashed over me like an avalanche, burying my heart under a crushing weight of betrayal. His love for me had been all a lie. I was the one who had braved those flames to save him. It was not her.

Wanting to give my boyfriend, Justin Letterman, a surprise on Valentine's Day, I throw myself at him when he enters the room. I push him against the door and kiss him passionately. It isn't easy to transfer the spiked wine from my mouth into his, but his reaction is cold and indifferent. He says nothing as he pushes me aside to turn on the light. "Don't you want my first time anymore, darling?" I ask bashfully as I grab his hand. His breathing turns heavy in an instant. Smiling, I slip my hand under his shirt, but I'm distracted when I hear the front door creak open. "Babe," Justin coos in a deep and hoarse voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?" my best friend, Natalie Quinn, asks coyly. The wanton noises of kissing and moaning echo into the room. Before I can snap back to my senses, I'm yanked into a closet. Am I the one getting caught, or am I the one doing the catching?

Two months into my cold war with Sean, the lover he’d been keeping finally danced her way right up to me, the real deal. Everyone expected me to react the same way I always had before, kicking up a huge scene to stake my claim. Instead, I looked at the intimate photos of Sean and her in the group chat, smiled, and sent them my blessing. [Looking good. Wishing you two a long and happy life.] The chat went dead silent. Sean must’ve sobered up from his little paradise because in the middle of the night, he drove home and pounded on my door. He was furious. “Do you think this is funny?” However, I only met his gaze calmly. “Honestly, after all these years, none of it is.”

On the third anniversary of our bond, I pushed open the private room door, my heart full of hope—only to see Chisel on one knee, leaning in to kiss Sylvia. In that instant, every thread of love and trust inside me snapped. “What are you doing?” My voice trembled; tears blurred my vision. Chisel looked up at me, eyes full of irritation. “Enough, Leah. Stop putting on that wounded look. We were just playing a game. I lost, that’s all. Why are you angry?” I could no longer bear the betrayal. After losing our pup, something inside me died completely. I decided to break the mate bond, to end this painful, scarred union once and for all. Even as Chisel kept apologizing, swearing he would change, I no longer believed him. My voice went cold: “Even if I forgive you, our pup never will.” I left the home that had once been full of love and hope, flying toward a new world that would be mine alone. On the other end of the phone, Chisel’s voice trembled. “Leah, I was wrong. Please… give me another chance…” I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and hung up. My voice was calm, final: “I have nothing more to say to you, Chisel.”