After Losing Her Love, He Frantically Begged for Forgiveness

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.