An Unwanted Love

I sat up and raised my voice. "Hugh, you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

I continued, "Five years have passed, and you're still so eager to put a wedge between me and him. But let me tell you—no matter what happens, this was my choice. I made my decision, and I'll take my loss. I won't look back."

Hugh went quiet for a moment before saying something completely unrelated, "I sent you something. You'll want to see it."

After he hung up, a video popped up on my phone.

Under the dim lighting, a girl stood face-to-face with Christopher.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his expression as indifferent as ever.

Amidst the teasing and laughter in the background, the girl stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

More importantly, he didn't move away.

The video ended there.

I opened the girl's social media account.

Lo and behold, she had just updated her status. "How is this not a success?"

The attached photo was of them kissing.

Nausea churned in my stomach. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet for a long time, only to realize I hadn't eaten all day. There was nothing to throw up.

Pain gripped my stomach, cramping so badly I could barely breathe.

I forced myself back to bed, curling into a ball.

Suddenly, a memory resurfaced.

…

When Christopher and I had just started dating, I had once wanted to see the stars from the mountaintop in the middle of the night.

He didn't ask a single question. He indulged my whim and drove me there overnight.

The air was cool, and he wrapped me in his arms, his warmth seeping into me.

With the moonlight casting a soft glow, he leaned in and asked cautiously, "The night is beautiful. Jessica, can I… kiss you?"

…

Unfortunately, there was no going back now.

Half-asleep, I was suddenly jolted awake by noises from the living room.

Cold sweat broke out on my back, but I had no strength to get up.

The next second, the bedroom light flicked on.

The harsh brightness made it impossible to open my eyes.

Then I heard his panicked voice.

"Jess! What's wrong?"

…

At 7:00 am, I woke up in the hospital.

Christopher was by my side, holding my hand, looking exhausted—like he had stayed up all night.

He stood up to pour me some water. "I wasn't around for a few days, and you just stopped taking care of yourself? You've always had a weak stomach—are you trying to kill yourself?"

He was reprimanding me.

Just how ridiculous could he be?

For the past week, I had barely eaten or slept, losing five pounds.

I had thought maybe he had gotten into trouble in the business world—that someone had kidnapped him.

I had been terrified and sleepless, crying into my pillow every night.

Meanwhile, he had been living it up somewhere else, kissing another girl without a care in the world.

"Are you giving me the silent treatment?" Christopher smirked, pinching my cheek. "You know I'll punish you for this, right?"

"Alright, get up and eat something. I made some oatmeal for you. I hadn't slept all night," he added.

He acted as if nothing had happened.

Helping me sit up, he scooped a spoonful of oatmeal and fed me patiently.

More than once, I wanted to confront him and ask, "Christopher, aren't you tired of acting?"

Or perhaps I should just tell him that I overheard their conversation, and if he didn't want to marry me, we could just cancel the wedding. It was not like we had registered yet anyway.

However, I swallowed the words.

I wanted to understand why he was doing this to me after all these years of loving me.

Was it just because I once loved someone else? Did that mean that I didn't deserve love now?

"Jess, why are you crying?"

He put the bowl down and quickly wiped my tears. "There, there. I'm sorry, I was wrong."

I lowered my gaze and closed my eyes, but I still ended up in Christopher's embrace.

He gently stroked my back and said softly, "Darling, I'm sorry for making you worry."

He then continued explaining, "I just got overwhelmed. Knowing I'm about to marry you—it felt too good to be true. I was scared it was all a dream. I just needed some time to clear my head. I should have told you sooner. Will you forgive me?"