He Chose His Mistress Over Our Unborn Child

I had been waiting for five years. My boyfriend had finally completed his assignment and retired from the special forces, ready to come back and marry me. But then I discovered thirty-six letters among his possessions. These letters were written before he embarked on his overseas missions, filled with longing for the person he truly loved—and that person wasn't me.

Clutching the pregnancy test report, my heart shattered as I arrived at the peak of the snowy mountain, only to see Vincent, always so proud, kneeling before Arabella Ortiz.

"Arabella, please give me a chance to make things right. If you're willing, I'll marry you immediately," he pleaded passionately, his voice full of desperation.

I tore the pregnancy report to pieces and let them flutter across the snowy peaks, deciding to leave. But on the day of the wedding, everything spiraled out of control.

On the summit of the mountain, at an altitude of 15,354 feet, I stood among the crowd, witnessing the proposal of my boyfriend of seven years. The usually reserved Vincent knelt on one knee, offering a diamond ring, and the scene overlapped with the one I had imagined he would promise me.

"Arabella, during these five years apart, I've thought of you every day. Will you marry me?" he implored, "Do it for the sake of our child."

Amid the piercing cheers of the onlookers, Arabella slowly extended her left hand, and the ring I had longed for was placed on her finger. Vincent stood up, trembled, and embraced Arabella, kissing her as if she were the most precious treasure.

I clenched the crumpled pregnancy test report, feeling as if a dagger had pierced my heart. I turned away, tearing the report into shreds and letting it drift down the mountain.

Five years ago, Vincent had told me he had been chosen by the organization to carry out a mission in the war-torn country of Afghanistan. Kneeling before me, he implored, "Evelynn, wait for me, will you? Once the mission is over, I'll come back and marry you."

Because of that promise, I waited for him a full five years, refusing the advances of any other man. But now, my five years and the child in my womb had become a mockery.

On my way down the mountain, I encountered Vincent and Arabella again. Arabella, touching her belly, was furious, "Vincent, after what Evelynn did to me, you need to get revenge for me!"

Vincent chuckled, "How would you like to get revenge?"

"If you really want to marry me, call off the wedding with her."

I limped away, nursing my swollen, painful foot, hiding nearby to hear Vincent's answer. After knowing him for ten years, he had always been the epitome of justice and integrity.

I was curious to see how he would choose between morals and Arabella.

"Okay, I agree," came Vincent's cold voice.

Blood seemed to freeze in my veins.

Arabella laughed, falling into his embrace, "Really? Aren't you afraid she'll get mad?"

Vincent affectionately tweaked her nose, "Even if she's upset, I once risked my life to save her. If it weren't for me, she would have been long gone."

"A runaway bride is nothing; she won't mind."

Suddenly, my leg throbbed painfully. An old injury plagued my right leg, causing intense pain in cold weather or rainy seasons. But to hear Vincent's explanation firsthand, I dragged that injured leg up the mountain for over 13,000 feet.

My hometown was in the plains, and combined with altitude sickness, I felt incredibly unwell. But still, I stubbornly sought an answer.

I took a deep breath, tried to suppress the pain in my heart, and dialed a number.

"Hi, Mom, I miss you. Can I come to see you?"

There was a long pause on the other end before my mom responded quickly, "Of course, Evelynn, your room's always ready for you."

"But—" she hesitated, "aren't you just about to marry Vincent? What about the wedding?"

I hesitated; Vincent was my savior, and I didn't want to tell my mom about his affair, fearing she wouldn't handle it well. So I lied, "No rush; weddings are complicated, and we aren't ready yet. Besides, it's been so long since we've seen each other; don't you miss me?"

"Miss you, miss you!" my mom said joyfully, "Your mother will be waiting for you."

I hung up, remembering these seven years and cursing myself for being so foolish. Were it not for the thirty-six love letters Vincent wrote to Arabella, I might still think I'd won.

On my way to the mountain, I kept telling myself it was a mistake, just a misunderstanding. After all, he had loved me enough to nearly sacrifice his life. How could he betray me?

Not until I saw Vincent propose to Arabella, who had nearly destroyed my family. He even insulted me publicly for her.

Confused and pained by my injured leg, I didn't notice my misstep and rolled down the mountain. At that moment, I received a call from Vincent.

"Evelynn, I'll be home late tonight; you—" Vincent paused. In the next moment, his voice was urgent, "Evelynn, what's that noise? Where are you?"