After Losing Her Love, He Frantically Begged for Forgiveness

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.”