Erased After My Husband Stood Me Up

Whitney noticed that I remained unmoved and suddenly panicked when she heard approaching footsteps.

She flipped over a chair to fake a fall, slapped her own face, and curled up on the ground with a pitiful cry.

“Whitney, what happened?!”

Jake hurried over to check her injuries.

Whitney immediately covered her face and wailed, “Jake, I just wanted to apologize to your senior, but she hit me.”

Jake’s face darkened with anger as he kicked over the food container.

“Estelle, when did you become so unreasonable? You even hit someone?

“I bought you your favorite food. Now, I’d rather feed it to a dog than give it to you.”

The dishes scattered on the floor were indeed all my favorites.

Who cared?

He did not ask me for my side of the story nor check the surveillance. He took Whitney’s words as truth and pinned the blame on me.

In the end, it was simple. He did not love me, so he refused to believe me.

He roared when I did not respond.

“Apologize to Whitney right now!”

Apologize?

Fine!

I had already taken the blame, so I might as well make it worth it.

I picked up the wine bottle from the table and smashed it hard against Whitney’s head.

“Sorry. I hit you too lightly earlier. I hope I didn’t disappoint this time!”

Blood began to seep from Whitney’s head.

Jake screamed in panic. He rushed to tend to her wound while calling an ambulance, drenched in sweat from panic.

Only after she was taken away did he remember to punish me.

“Guards, lock her in a room. Let her reflect on her actions for three days.”

He glared at me.

“So, you like hitting people? You can keep being arrogant.”

Then, he got into the ambulance and left without another word.

Several bodyguards dragged me away like a dead dog.

Afraid I would escape, they locked me in a windowless room and shackled my limbs with heavy chains.

When the door shut, darkness swallowed everything.

I did not expect the last three days of my life to be spent in a place like this.

Still, things only got worse.

On the first day, Whitney came in with her head wrapped in gauze, confiscated my food, and ordered them to cut off my water and meals for the next three days.

On the second day, she kicked me until my stomach churned and I vomited acid.

On the third day, she used a whip with barbs, leaving my skin torn and bleeding beneath my clothes.

I looked at her coldly.

“Aren’t you afraid Jake will find out what you did?”

She shrugged indifferently.

“So what if he does? He loves me. He won’t believe your side of the story.

“Estelle, you’re about to be released. Why don’t you try to see who he believes, you or me?

“I suggest you don’t bring this storm upon yourself.”

She pressed down on my wounds.

She only left in satisfaction after my blood soaked through the dark fabric.

She was right. Jake would not believe me.

However, it no longer mattered.

The countdown in my mind had already reached zero.

The moment the door closed, my consciousness began to fade.

Memories of our past love flashed before my eyes. They were beautiful, warm, and once real.

In the end, they shattered like glass, dissolving into nothingness.

I let out a broken laugh as my arm went limp and fell.

Jake, in my next life, and the one after that, I never want to meet you again…

…

That evening, Jake returned from work and finally remembered the girlfriend he had locked up.

He carried a lunchbox and pushed open the door.

“Estelle, I’m here. I locked you up for three days. You must be starving. I made you something myself to nourish you.”

There was no response. His eyes scanned the room.

Suddenly, his gaze locked onto something. His pupils shrank violently, and the lunchbox slipped from his hands, crashing to the floor as the soup and food spilled everywhere.