At Our Wedding: My Wife’s First Love Proposes to Her

Three days after Helena went missing, she showed up.

She looked at me and asked, "Marques, I heard you're sent abroad by the company. When do you leave?"

"In two months. Why?" I replied, my face expressionless. She still carried herself with an air of superiority, as if she weren't the one who ran away from the wedding.

I looked at her and asked, "Helena, don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

"What's there to explain? I love Beckett, and I always have. You knew that. The only reason he didn't marry me sooner was because of his illness. But you saw it yourself that day. He was willing to ruin our wedding for me, so I'll love him forever."

As I looked at Helena, who showed no trace of guilt, my heart ached. Fighting back the bitterness, I asked, "Then what do I mean to you?"

"Marques, you need to understand that I was the campus queen. Just being with you all these years was a huge sacrifice for me. But you treated me well, so why can't we part ways peacefully? I'll sign the divorce papers, but I want this house."

Staring at her shameless expression, I asked, "You know this house was left to me by my grandfather."

"If you don't want to give me the house, then fine. This area is about to undergo redevelopment and will increase in value. Just give me half of what it's worth in cash." Helena demanded shamelessly.

I stared at her in disbelief. "Helena, what if I refuse?"

"Then we'll see each other in court. This house is considered marital property now. Do you really think you can keep it from me?" She paused.

But I caught her muttering, "If it weren't for the fact that you had a house here, do you think I would've been with you?"

I grabbed something nearby and threw it at her feet. "Helena, get out. Just get out!"

Startled, Helena screamed but then asked me, "Marques, are you going to kill me now?" she yelled, making a scene.

I watched her pretentious act with indifference.

Finally, she grew tired and left with somewhat fear. Before leaving, she added, "You'd better give what I want, or I won't go easy on you."

Seeing her despicable behavior, I couldn't believe I had once loved someone like her.

That night, I held the divorce papers and cried out for the stubborn young man who had once loved Helena and for the pathetic man I had become.

The next morning, I saw another post from Beckett on social media: [The unloved always end up as a joke.]