Unattainable

My sister had struggled with severe depression for years, and the only thing that seemed to ease her pain was her dog, Toto, who had become her constant companion. But when her illness flared up again, Toto was nowhere to be found. Then, my husband, Lionel Cress's childhood sweetheart posted a picture of Toto on social media. [With her, it feels like you're here with me.] I lost it. I called Lionel in a frenzy, but despite being my sister's psychologist, he was completely indifferent. "Your sister has been sick for so long. How could she suddenly relapse just because Toto's gone for a few days?" When I rushed back home, I found my sister in the bathroom, her wrists cut. Later, Toto's body was discovered outside our building, with Lionel's gift to his childhood sweetheart—a ring—lying next to her. I buried both my sister and Toto, and left behind nothing but a divorce agreement. Lionel went crazy, desperately trying to find me.

For eight years, I stayed by John Harlem's side, even without a title. I was there when he recovered and rose from his wheelchair, and I was there when he clawed his way out of depression. I thought that one day, if I endured long enough, he would see my sincerity and affection for him. And we might end up together. But when his first love returned to the country, all my hopes turned into delusions. He told me to put away feelings I should never have had and remain by his side as nothing more than his "sister". For her, he deceived me, humiliated me, and pushed me away. What he never knew was that in helping him heal, I had absorbed far too much of his darkness. The very day he stopped taking his medication, I was diagnosed with severe depression. In order to save myself, I chose to let him go… and married his uncle instead. But at my wedding, he set aside his pride and dignity, dropped to his knees before everyone, and begged me for nothing more than a single glance.

My fiancee was diagnosed with cancer and needed a liver transplant. When I found out I'm a match, I agreed to undergo the surgery without a second thought. They removed two-thirds of my liver. The pain is excruciating, but the moment I wake up, I force myself to check on her. Outside her hospital room, I overhear her talking to a friend. "Trish, you're a genius! This revenge plan is brilliant!" her friend exclaims. Patricia Zeller laughs. "If I weren't trying to keep it low-key, I would've taken a kidney just for fun. It's all his fault that Warren messed up his college entrance exam and had to study abroad. Warren's coming back in a month. Once he does, I'm done with him for good."

On our wedding day, Ethan got a call and bolted from the ceremony. Grandma was so furious she started coughing up blood, and everyone just watched. Not one person stepped in to help. I raced her to the hospital, but it was too late. She was gone before they even got her inside. Then, as I sat alone in the morgue, my phone lit up. It was Ethan. "Grace, get to the hospital. Bella's hurt and needs your blood!" "Ethan Carter, it's over between us." I ended the call, leaving the last pieces of my heart—and him—behind. Months later, he was on his knees in the pouring rain, begging for forgiveness, saying he'd do anything, give anything, if I'd only look back.

On my wedding day, my fiance's first love appeared at the wedding ceremony wearing the exact same haute couture gown as mine. I watched them stand together at the entrance, greeting the guests as if they were the bride and groom. Maintaining a calm expression, I complimented them, saying they looked like the perfect couple—beauty and brains, a match made in heaven. She burst into tears and fled the scene. He, however, didn't hesitate to humiliate me in front of everyone, accusing me of being petty and narrow-minded. When the wedding banquet was over, he left for what was supposed to be our honeymoon—with her by his side. I didn't argue or cause a scene. Instead, I quietly booked an appointment for an abortion.

It was the fifth year of my engagement to Jake Zimmer. Just as we were preparing to get married, his first love came back. Suddenly, every promise he had made to me meant nothing. Because of her, he began to resent everything I did. That was when I realized I was nothing compared to the woman he truly loved. I was tired, so I let go. I gave them my blessing and walked away from Jake’s life for good. But then, he changed his mind. He came back in tears, begging me not to leave.

Sa araw ng kasal ko, dumating ang first love ng fiance ko sa wedding ceremony suot ang parehong haute couture gown na gaya ng sa akin. Pinanood ko silang tumayo ng magkasama sa entrance, binabati ang mga bisita na para bang sila ang bride at groom. Nanatili akong mahinahon, pinuri ko sila, sinabi ko na bagay sila sa isa’t isa—maganda at matalino, itinadhana sila para sa isa’t isa. Napaluha ang babae at umalis. Gayunpaman, ang fiance ko, ay hindi nagdalawang-isip na ipahiya ako sa harap ng lahat, inakusahan niya ako na mapaghiganti at makitid ang pag-iisip. Noong matapos ang wedding banquet, umalis siya para sa dapat sana ay honeymoon namin—at siya ang kasama niya. Hindi ako nakipagtalo o gumawa ng eksena. Sa halip, palihim akong nag-book ng appointment para sa abortion.

My husband did not love me, and he certainly did not love our child. On the day our son was born, he did not even glance at him. He merely tossed him into my arms. Then, his first love came back from overseas. That night, the ever-cold Henry had gotten drunk for the first time. He even smiled as he held our child in his arms. Delighted, our son wrapped his little arms around my husband's neck and asked me in a soft voice, “Mommy, what’s wrong with Uncle?” I crouched down, pulling him into my embrace. My eyes reddened as I explained, “Uncle's favorite person came back, so we shouldn’t bother him anymore. We’re going to find a new home.”

My father lies on a hospital bed, barely breathing as he asks to see my husband once more. However, my husband's phone is turned off that day. I hurry to his company to look for him, but his secretary stops me and tells me there's a company policy that says they don't allow me and dogs to enter. I kneel before the building and beg for help, but someone records me and twists the truth. Later, I watch the video and see Eugene Fort carrying his true love, who's cut her finger, into the car. My father ultimately dies without seeing Eugene. I stay up all night to handle the wake and funeral. The following day, I finally receive a call from Eugene. He sounds impatient as he says, "Come to the hospital. Ivy needs help."

I married the same man seven times. He had divorced me seven times for his first love, just so he could spend vacations with her freely, and so she wouldn't have to deal with rumors or gossip. The first time we divorced, I tried to stop him by hurting myself. I ended up in the hospital, but he didn't even come to see me. The second time, I lowered myself to apply as his assistant at his company, just so I could see him more. By the sixth divorce, I had already learned to pack my things quietly and leave our apartment without a fuss. My meltdowns, my constant giving in, and my numb compromises only led to one thing: him coming back to marry me on schedule, and repeating the same old games. Until now. When I heard that his first love was returning to the country, I handed him the divorce papers first. As usual, he made a plan to remarry me later, but this time, he had no idea that I was leaving for good.