I called out to him, "Jason! Darling!"

Alas, my newlywed husband never looked back even once. The sound of his hurried footsteps crushed my self-esteem to pieces.

The skin on my shoulders was also burning with pain.

I bit my lips and blinked rapidly to try and stop my tears from flowing. Once my vision was crystal clear, all I saw was an empty room.

Jason did not return. He did not bring cold water to tend to my scalds and comfort me. He left me in the room to bear the pain, all to chase after Sylvie who was afraid of the dark.

I was his newlywed wife. We exchanged vows in front of his family and friends. He promised that he would always love me, care for me and put me first.

Even when he was courting me, I knew that he once had a relationship that ended on extremely bad terms. He promised me time and again that everything was in the past, and that hate had turned to indifference. Through his promises, I gradually opened my heart up to him, fell in love with him, and eventually married him.

As I endured the scalding pain and stood up, I stepped on a hard item.

It was my wedding ring.

Sylvie mentioned earlier that a wedding ring with a pink diamond was something she had agreed on with Jason. I personally loathe them and prefer simple bands in gold or silver.

Jason knew that, but he had an apologetic explanation ready when he showed me the ring. Apparently, it was love at first sight for him when he first met me, and he immediately placed an order for that pink diamond ring because he thought it would be a symbol of his love.

I was so beside myself with joy after hearing his words that I stopped him from making any customizations and insisted I liked it the way it was.

Who would have known that there was only a pink diamond on the ring because he had an agreement with Sylvie.

I could not help but wonder what was going through Jason's mind when he put this ring on me. Was he mocking Sylvie for missing out on the pink diamond ring she wanted, or was he happy to marry me?

The scene of yesterday's wedding was still fresh in my mind.

At that time, Jason said firmly, "I've been looking forward to this day since I first met you. We're finally husband and wife. If you're ever unhappy with me in the future, tell me, and I will turn over a new leaf. If it's something I can't change, I will give you a proper explanation. Whatever you do, please don't just vanish on me."

"Okay," I agreed, feeling bad for him because of the bad breakup.

I had not expected our first day as a married couple to turn out in such a manner.

The door swung open all of a sudden.

I froze.

I felt sad, but also hopeful.

I decided that I would forgive Jason if he came back with some medication to treat my scalding.

Even if he did not bring any medication, I would still listen to his explanation once he returned.

When I looked up, I saw two drunken men staggering in.

My heart was in my throat.

One of the men said, "I knew something must be going on when a room door is open and the place just reeks of sweat. Look at all those love marks on your body. Why don't you keep me company and I'll pay you whatever amount you want?"

The two men walked toward me and cornered me at my left and right.

I clutched the towel covering my body, and the only item I could use to protect myself from them was the kettle.

"Stay away! My husband will be back soon!" I warned, lacking in confidence.

My hands continued to clench the kettle.

The two men smiled lewdly as they approached me. One of them picked up the marriage certificate from the bedside table and said, "This man is your husband? He was kissing another woman at the elevator entrance! He can't care less about you right now, so you'll be fine if you just keep this between us."

The man grinned and held out his hand to me.

"Jason! Help!" I yelled as I had never yelled before in my life.

Startled, the man slapped me.

I picked up the kettle and threw it at him, all while shouting Jason's name in desperation. He once told me that he would always come to me if he heard me calling his name, yet such a miracle did not happen.

The other drunk man came up to help and they swiftly prevented me from resisting.

As despair gripped me, the door swung open again.

I shouted once more, "Jason! Help me! Help me, please!"

The person entering the room was not Jason, but a janitor. She rushed over and pushed the two drunks aside.

The ruckus attracted more people into the room.

Someone held down two drunk men, while another called the police.

One person handed me some clothes, telling me to go get dressed in the bathroom.

I went in and put on my clothes like a robot, and the pain in my shoulder brought me back to my senses.

I endured the pain, put on my clothes, and walked out of the bathroom trembling.

The room was already quiet, with only the janitor and another woman guarding the door.

Jason was still nowhere to be seen.

As the manager, Sylvie should have been there to deal with the situation when such incidents occurred. But she was nowhere to be found.

The janitor handed me some tissues and a cup of warm water. "Are you okay?"

I could no longer hold back my tears. "No. I'm not okay. I'm not okay at all."

I felt that I had lost my mind as I cried my heart out in front of two strangers.

There was no denying I was in a very bad state of mind.

If Jason were here, I would tell him that I was scared and that it was hurting where I was scalded, but he was not here.

He broke his promise on the first day of our marriage. He neither protected me nor showed up beside me at my saddest moments.

The janitor patted my back gently and said, "It's okay to let it out."

When she patted me on the shoulder, my pain drew out an ugly wince.

The janitor was startled. "Are you hurt?"

The two of them immediately brought me to the bathroom after lifting my shirt collar and seeing what had happened. They ran cold water over my shoulders and asked another colleague to get some ointment for my burns.

Jason should be the one doing all that for me.

My tears flowed uncontrollably when I saw those two strangers with worried looks.

A good amount of time had passed, but Jason still had not returned. It was not long until my heart became as cold as the water's temperature.

I then heard voices coming from the janitor's walkie-talkie.

"I can't find any ointment in the first-aid kit, and I can't get in touch with Ms. Sylvie either. Has anyone seen her?"

"The surveillance footage showed her leaving the hotel with a man. What should we do now?"

"Who is he? Can anyone find out his phone number and if we can contact him?"

I wanted to tell them I knew him, but one important detail crossed my mind.

Jason would not let me get out of bed to take a shower after our intimate session. He had been holding his phone during the period when he demanded Sylvie clean the guest room. He missed my calls very frequently and hardly ever looked at his phone, yet he had been clutching it so tightly.

The screen lit up and shut off repeatedly.

A voice from outside seemed to respond to my thoughts, yelling, "She can't even get her husband to stay by her side! I'm just trying to be nice and teach her how to keep her man, but she hit me rather than thanking me. I didn't demand any compensation for that, so why are you people calling the police to arrest me? This is ridiculous!"

I instantly felt disgusted.

I massaged my waist, wondering if Jason had decided to make things more intense by provoking Sylvie during our honeymoon.

Suddenly, another voice came from the walkie-talkie, "We've found the surveillance footage. Our manager left with the male guest from room seven-zero-two..."

"Isn't that the same room where two male guests forced themselves onto another female guest?"

The janitor rushed to switch off the walkie-talkie.

I lowered my head and said, "I have his phone number. I'll call him."

As I went to get my phone, I glanced at the wedding dress and saw that it had been soiled by high-heeled shoe prints. My marriage certificate had also fallen to the floor, along with another footprint on our photograph.

I tried wiping away the shoe print, but the certificate became even dirtier.

It seemed to tell me that Jason's love and my marriage to him would never be as pure as it was at the beginning.

I called Jason.

His dial tone was a rendition of 'Wedding March', which played up to the second bar before being cut off.

Stunned, I called again, and was hung up again.

By the third time, the call could not even get through. My number had been blocked.

I held my phone blankly in my hand and felt like the sort of loser who had lost everything that had to live for.

The janitor patted me on the shoulder and handed me a few tissues.

Then came another knock on the door. It was the police.

They wanted me to come by the station so they could take my statement. I was obliged to recount the events of that painful night in detail.

The pain and embarrassment grew stronger with every word that came out of my mouth.

When I finally walked out of the interrogation room, Jason was there in front of me.

I had not considered how I should face him and what to say to him. Even though he showed up late, my tears started falling as soon as I saw him.

Jason rushed up to me and said, "Lauren, please tell the police that you were the one who opened the door and invited those two men in.

"Tell them that you burnt yourself, and I wasn't around because Sylvie brought me to get some ointment for your burns.

"Sylvie will be fired if you give them that explanation!"