Loving you brings regret
At a friend's gathering, someone asked Philip when he planned to marry me.
Philip took a calm drag from his cigarette, his eyes unreadable.
“Elizabeth is a good girl,” he said, “but she’s… tainted now. So my wife could never be her.” He paused, then added softly, “If only she were untouched, like Lauren.”
The video cut out. A text flashed on the screen.
【It’s me he loves. Don’t you get it yet?】
I stared at the taunting message but didn’t reply. Instead, I called out to the System.
“System, I choose to give up the mission. Yes—even if the price is death.”
That night, Philip came to find me, reeking of alcohol.
As soon as he saw me, he pulled me into a tight embrace. “Elizabeth, I missed you so much.”
He rested his head against my neck, no different from the Philip I knew. He kissed my cheek, then my lips, then my neck.
But as he moved lower, he hesitated—remembering something—and held himself back. Even now, with alcohol fueling a desire stronger than usual, he didn’t take the next step.
I used to think he was being considerate, unwilling to go too far before marriage. Now I understood. He just thought I was dirty.
Pushing down the grief, I shoved him away. My voice turned to ice.
“Philip, we’re breaking up.”
His eyes sharpened, suddenly sober. “Elizabeth, what are you saying?”
Seeing his nervous expression—if I hadn’t seen that video—how could I have believed that Philip, who always seemed to care for me, would say such things? I always thought he would be the one to protect me. I never imagined he’d be the one to hurt me the deepest.
“I said, we’re over.”
He reached out and pulled me tightly against him again, his voice a low murmur. “No, we’re not.”
I hated him like this. Clearly having no future in mind with me, yet still refusing to let go.
“Then have me now. Marry me.”
He froze, caught off guard, then chuckled softly. “Don’t be silly.”
But my eyes welled up. “Admit it, Philip! You just think I’m dirty!”
The thought I’d suppressed for so long finally burst out. After I said it, Philip stood rooted to the spot, staring at me intently.
My words had struck true. A flicker of disgust crossed his face.
“Fine. Yes, I think you’re dirty. Why did that bastard choose you and not someone else? Why did you have to let him—”
His gaze cut like a blade, plunging deep into my heart.
Hearing that, the tears I’d held back for so long finally fell.
That day was my eighteenth birthday. I’d dressed up carefully, hoping to surprise Philip.
Passing through an alley, a pair of foul, sticky hands clamped over my mouth. “All dressed up like that… you were looking for trouble, weren’t you?”
I struggled desperately, but the man behind me only grew more excited.
Philip was the first to find me. Trembling, he held me, swearing through gritted teeth that he’d find the man and make him pay.
But now? He knew I was the victim, yet he called me dirty.
I was the one who truly wished it had never happened. Maybe I should have understood the System’s mocking tone from the start.
I screamed at him, my voice raw. “Get out!”
His patience had long vanished. Seeing my state, he threw down one last line. “Elizabeth, you’d better not regret this. Once you leave me, no one will ever look after you again.”
After he left, I could no longer hold myself up. I crumpled to the floor.
It felt like something was being ripped from inside me—a pain that made me tremble. I had lost the bet with the System. Completely.
Then, a sharp, twisting pain shot through my abdomen. I coughed lightly and looked down at my open hand. A vivid number **15** appeared on my palm, then slowly faded away.
My phone rang, and I answered with one hand pressed to my stomach.
“Elizabeth, the hospital just called.” My mother’s voice was sharp, breathless. “Nicholas’s medical funding was cut. Did you offend Philip? Go apologize to him—now!”
“Do you still think you’re some pampered princess?” she pressed, louder, fiercer. “If anything happens to your brother, I’ll never forgive you!”
I lowered my gaze. So this was what Philip meant: I’d better not regret it.
Two years ago, the family business went bankrupt. Shortly after, my father and brother were on their way to a creditors’ meeting when their car was hit head-on. Dad died instantly. My brother was left with a faint pulse, lingering in a vegetative state.
Mom fell apart, her hands clawing at me.
“Where were you?” she screamed. “Your father was supposed to take you with him that day! Do you have any idea?!”
It was Philip who shielded me. He stepped in and offered to cover my brother’s medical expenses.
From that moment on, I knew I owed him even more.
So all these years, I’ve gone along with his wishes. Partly for my brother, partly for the mission—to go back, to rewrite everything.
The scandal back then was huge. Even Philip, who defended me, got dragged into it. He kept reassuring me that it would all pass, but I couldn’t bring myself to imagine any kind of future.
Just as I was about to end it all, a voice echoed in my mind.
It claimed to be a System, drifting through the world. It said if I could complete one task, it would send me back to the day of my debutante ball—to change my fate.
The task? To make Philip truly fall in love with me.
I agreed in under two seconds. Philip and I grew up together. After the scandal, he stayed by my side, caring for me more attentively than ever, even more protective than before. Winning his love seemed effortless.
I refused to believe he didn’t love me.
Now, all of that feels like a slap in the face to the confident girl I once was.
Time is the ultimate proof. Five years have passed, and Philip does not love me.
“Mom, don’t worry,” I said, my voice muffled. “I’ll find the money.”
Pushing my emotions down, I promised again and again that I’d get the funds for my brother’s treatment. Only then did she finally hang up, reluctantly reassured.
My savings were thin. Every month, after covering basic expenses, I still had to pay off the debts my father left behind.
Looking back now, the only good thing all these years was that I never gave up my career for Philip.
Now, painting isn’t just my means of making a living. It’s the only way I have left to remember my father.
In my dream, I was back in that summer.
Philip pulled me from the drowning pool, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss.
“Don’t be scared, Liz,” he whispered. “I’ll protect you from now on.”
And he did. He kept his promise. He protected me. He cherished me.
So when did he change?
I couldn’t figure it out. And I was just so tired.
