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.

Of course, I agreed immediately as I knew what he really meant.

From then on, he began to take advantage of his status as a creditor and appeared everywhere in my life.

Sometimes it was mispaid tuition, sometimes it was overmuch food, and sometimes it was a winter coat that he wrongly bought.

On one school performance, he, in front of all the teachers and students, sang a sweet little love song.

He stood in the spotlight with a red face, raised his microphone in my direction, and asked me if I would like to be his girlfriend.

I smiled and nodded.

His voice trembled with excitement after my answer as he announced loudly into the microphone, "Jennifer London is my girlfriend."

He had always been nice to me, so nice that even my mom thought it was too much.

Thus, before her death, my mother held my hand and spoke to me, "Edgar has been so attentive to us. Do please repay him in the future whatever happens, okay?"

Mom... It had already been eight years. It should be enough, shouldn't it?

How I wished Michelle never appeared.

My head was in the clouds, and my face got even wetter.

I couldn't get a taxi there just beside the villa, so I walked to the crossroads.

A young man in yellow saw me and asked if I needed help.

I followed him downtown and stayed at a random hotel.

It took me a few more days to find myself a one-bedroom apartment, and I could finally submit my resignation to the company I worked at.

Yet I was required to stay for another month for the transition; ironically, I was the one who made this regulation for my company.

As for Edgar, he never even showed up at the company during all this time. It could be that Michelle started pestering him again.

I saw him again half a month later at a company gathering.

He was probably still angry, and only shot me a cold glance.

Then he took the seat opposite me before resuming all his caring questions toward Michelle.

All guests at the table were backbone members of the company, many of whom also attended that ridiculous wedding ceremony not long ago.

The atmosphere over the table was extremely depressing.

Everyone's eyes were moving back and forth between us.

I wasn't particularly bothered, and from time to time I asked questions about work to the planning manager sitting next to me.

It was not until I raised the wine glass in my hand to him that Edgar could no longer remain calm.

He left to his feet, grabbed my glass, and smashed it onto the ground.

With a gloomy face and gritted teeth he growled, "Enough, Jennifer!

Drinking while you're pregnant? You don't even want to think about the baby just so you could act angry?!"

The already quiet box became even more silent as his words fell, with people casting strange looks at him.

After all, he knocked me down in front of so many and caused my pregnancy to end in a miscarriage; it would be impossible for him to not know about this if he had paid me any attention.

Red wine splattered alongside splinters of glass everywhere, and younger girls screamed.

I smiled at them apologetically before shaking off his hand, "The baby was gone a month ago, Edgar."

Edgar's color changed swiftly as he sneered disdainfully, stubbornly holding me in confrontation, "You can vent your anger on me, but you shouldn't curse your child."

A young girl in her twenties stood up in the crowd and spoke carefully, "It's true, Boss. I was the one who took Ms. to the hospital, and she was bleeding heavily at the time. The doctors issued critical illness notices several times, but as we couldn't contact her family, she signed the notices by herself in the end."

After finishing her speech, the young girl's eyes fell cautiously on Michelle.