My husband's childhood friend, after a sudden car accident, lost her memory and suffered from depression.

In order not to aggravate her, my husband asked me to be nicer to her.

She could wear our engagement rings.

She could live in our new marital house.

On the day of our wedding, in front of all the guests, my husband wrapped his arm around Michelle Glen who was weeping frailly, and pushed me away when I tried to stop him, "We can hold our wedding anytime, but I can't let anything happen to Michelle."

He left resolutely, not noticing at all that I, knocked down behind him, was lying on the floor covered with my own blood.

1

Michelle Glen rushed in halfway through my wedding with a fruit knife in her bloody hands.

She jumped to the groom and put her knife on her own wrist, "You promised that I am the only one you would marry in your entire life! I should be your bride!"

This again.

She was a total phony.

Yet Edgar always bought that.

He started to soothe her patiently, trying to take the knife out of her hand.

One of them is spoiled and wayward, the other tolerant and patient.

Because of this painfully garish farce, the guests began pointing.

I stood alone opposite them, a chill crept all over me.

Edgar Caspar comforted her for quite a long time, yet Michelle still refused to compromise.

He turned his gaze to me, "She's having a depression attack, Jennifer. You can go first, and we'll hold our wedding next time."

Even though I tried to contain my tears with all my might, Edgar's words still reddened my eyes.

This infinite feeling of humiliation was about to drown me.

I swallowed the bitterness in my heart and refused him with a trembling voice, "It is my wedding with you today, Edgar."

It seemed that Michelle was stimulated hearing what I said. Her knife slit her wrist skin and blood gushed out as she screeched, "No, you bitch, you slut! Edgar will never marry you!"

Tears raged down her face while the blood was still rushing out.

Edgar's face darkened as he understood that I refused to give in.

He ripped a piece of cloth from the corner of his shirt, wrapped Michelle's wrist with it, picked her up, and was about to leave.

I bit my lips and blocked him with my arms, “You're not leaving, Edgar.”

"She can call the ambulance as she's injured. She can seek a therapist or go to a mental institution as she can't handle her depression. However, there is no wedding without the groom."

"Please don't go, just this once."

Stopped by me, Edgar gazed at me unhappily, "Get out of my way."

Yet I wouldn't let him.

He knocked me out of his way with his body, and departed with Michelle in his arms.

I dropped onto the ground, feeling a sharp pain in my lower abdomen.

2

My wedding was of course ruined.

I was sent to the hospital and naturally, my baby was gone.

It felt like my heart was gouged out while I was alive.

At the time of my miscarriage, I was hemorrhaging possibly due to my emotions.

The doctor told me to obtain a family member's signature, yet I had no other relatives.

The only thing I could do was to call Edgar again and again, with no one answering at all.

I texted him, begging him to come to this hospital.

But his reply came in, "Are you done yet, Jennifer? Hurry up and die if you want to die."

I was stunned, and my tears burst forth in an instant.

Finally, I halted my hand in midair before making another call to him, and struggled up to sign my notice of critical illness.

...

"Make me some coffee."

Edgar entered with his suit slung over his arm, looking tired.

That imperative was the only thing he said before falling back on the sofa.

I stood still beside him.

He closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, and spoke impatiently, “I'm very tired now. Don’t tell me you’re going to make trouble again.”

If it were the past, I would have already been massaging his shoulders as soon as I saw him like this.

Yet all I did was look at him calmly. "Let's get divorced, Edgar."

Although the wedding ceremony was cancelled, we registered and obtained our marriage license long ago.

And now, I wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

At my words, he stopped rubbing his temples, straightened up, and looked me in the eye.

A sneer escaped his lips, "You think this is funny, Jennifer?

It's not like you don't know Mica's condition.

Why can't you try to be sensible? Do you know that she would be dead by now if her cut were one millimeter deeper?"

"Heh..."

His earnest words stirred nothing in my heart; I couldn't even help but sneer.

I couldn't remember how many times I had heard such words like those.

I stared into his eyes and pressed aggressively, "So is she dead or not in reality?

You mean I have to humor her for her entire life if she fails to recover?"

I might have felt bad for her if she were dead.

But it was always like this; death would always miss her by a hair.

Edgar was the only person she could remember after she lost her memory because of that car accident.

She shamelessly occupied my husband.

She wanted everything I had.

At first, it was just flowers on Valentine's Day.

She cried bitterly while questioning why Edgar cheated on her.

Others explained to her that I was Edgar's rightful wife, yet she wouldn't listen. She climbed onto the rooftop, threatening to end her life.

Eventually, Edgar snatched the flowers out of my arms and handed them to her.

She came down only after he promised her that she would be the only one he would give flowers to in the future.

So on valentine's night, my husband was hugging and comforting another woman in our marital house, while I spent a sleepless night at a hotel all by myself.

At that time, Edgar would still feel guilty for me, and he secretly sent me a more beautiful bouquet the next day.

He assured me again and again that Michelle was sick, and that our lives would be back to normal when she got better.

I trusted him, and crossed my bottom line again and again in an attempt to be tolerant.

However, her condition never improved. She only grew sicker.

She became more and more attached to Edgar, and because of her illness, I had to back off step by step.

And eventually, everyone felt that she deserved my concession.

I would be regarded as petty, unsympathetic, and vicious when I didn't give in.

Edgar thought so, too.

I was angry at first and tried to fight back, but ultimately, I went numb.

If I hadn't discovered by accident that Michelle was faking everything, I was afraid I would have acclimatized myself to the status quo.

I talked to Edgar about this, yet he didn't believe me.

Since then, I had realized that Edgar and I would not make it to the end.

But that was also exactly the time I found out I was pregnant.

For my baby's sake, I decided to give it another try, hoping that Edgar might one day discover Michelle's true colors by himself.

After I gave birth to my child, I thought, Michelle might give up and leave the picture on her own accord.

I was such a fool.

He didn't even care about me; how should I expect him to care about the baby in my belly?

Edgar was stunned for a moment, and then eyed me in disbelief.

He grabbed my wrist tightly, "Do you hear yourself, Jennifer?"

The corner of my mouth twitched as I sneered at him, "What? Are you heartbroken because I cursed your closest girl friend?

Let's get divorced, otherwise, I will be praying every day that she goes to hell and dies a most miserable death."

I was never an impulsive person.

It had been eight years; we have been together for eight years all the way since college.

I had never mentioned breaking up, nor had I ever said anything harsh to him.

Every time we quarreled, I was the one who took the initiative to make a gesture of peace.

A loud "Slap!" blasted out among us.

And my cheek started burning.

Edgar looked at my red and swollen cheeks blankly before reaching out his hand for my face.

I jerked away in disgust and glared at him fiercely.

A panic flashed in his eyes. "Jennifer."

Feeling my obvious hostility, he withdrew his hand helplessly, took out an exquisite box and handed it over to me.

His voice softened, "I know you suffered this time, and I promise you that I will give you an even more splendid wedding when we have time.

Here, I bought you your favorite pink diamond. Mica is ill, so please forgive her."

I fixed my eyes on the dazzling pink diamond so much that my eyes hurt.

He was probably confused.

It was Michelle Glen, not me, who liked pink diamonds.

What I had always loved was the silver wedding rings that we carved by hand and exchanged with each other when we established our relationship.

Unfortunately, Michelle snatched it away from me.

Instead of taking his gift, I looked at him with a smile, "What if she breaks into our wedding again next time? Will you watch her die?"

"I'll have someone keep a close eye on her."

"No, I'm speaking hypothetically. If the same thing happens again, who will you choose? Her, or me?"

"You know she's sick, Jennifer."

"All right, that's enough. We're divorcing."

I broke in, positive that I would probably start cursing if I were to hear one more word from him.

He suddenly became furious, "I've already said everything nice to you, Jennifer. What else do you want?

There is no good for anyone if you continue like this.

What's more, forget about divorcing.

If you won't think for yourself, you should still consider your baby."

He still had the nerve to mention the baby!

Yet he gave me no time to react.

After dropping those words, he turned away and strode out of the living room into the bathroom.

I knew he had reached the limit of his patience.

If it were the past, I would wait for him, and when he returned, there would be a hot bowl of noodles waiting for him on the table.

But nothing would be there for him this time; no noodles, and not even me.

...

The villa was located in a lonely place. I stood outside and waited for an eternity in vain for taxis.

It might be raining; drops of water were falling onto the tips of my shoes.

I wiped my face with my hand.

Whatever happened, it had been eight years.

I met him the first time when debt collectors were threatening my mother and me at our doorsteps.

I was supposed to be giving a speech as a student representative that day.

He, the president of the student union, realized that I never arrived, and came to my home to look for me.

When he saw my mother and I surrounded by around seven or eight thugs, he turned around and rushed away.

I thought he was frightened.

But in the blink of an eye, he took an iron rod that was as long as half of himself out of nowhere.

Full of a youthful, reckless spirit, he rushed in knowing the grave danger he was facing.

He kept me protected behind him until a passerby called the police.

All of us were taken to the police office, and he paid off my family's debt of two hundred thousand as if it were nothing to him.

I thought a prince in real life had come to save me at that moment, not prepared at all for him to turn around and ask me to write an IOU with an average rate of interest.