My Childhood Sweetheart's Betrayal and the Child He Had with Another

The people around us started to glance over, intrigued by the drama unfolding. I bent down to help her up, but she seemed frozen to the spot, sobbing in gasps like she was on the brink of collapsing. Her cries were dramatic, the kind of desperate sobbing that would go on until I gave in to whatever demands she had.

I gritted my teeth, pulled her up roughly, and shoved her back into her seat. Looking down at her, I said firmly, “I’ll break up with him.”

The instant my words left my mouth, her tears stopped. She almost looked like she wanted to smile, but she quickly stopped herself, blinking up at me with those big, watery eyes—eyes that screamed innocence.

But all I could think was how absurd it was. Even if I broke up with Daniel, he wouldn’t choose her.

As we walked out of the restaurant, she gave me a smile, murmured a soft “Thank you,” and waved goodbye. A light breeze tousled her hair, and the sunlight hit her just right, making her look like she’d stepped out of a painting.

I squinted, watching her retreating figure. She wasn’t the first woman to stand in front of me.

My name is Emily. I’m twenty-eight and about to finish my doctorate. Daniel and I grew up together. Our families were neighbors, and we were in the same class from elementary school through high school. You could call us childhood sweethearts.

He was always exceptional—good-looking, smart—he had all the qualities of a rising star.

If he was the “naturally talented” one, then I was the “hard-working” one. I had to put in a lot of effort just to scrape into the top ten, and even then, it wasn’t guaranteed.

I’m ordinary in looks and tend to blend into the background. I’m the kind of person whose face you might recognize, but whose name you can’t quite place. Like any other girl, I admired Daniel, the shining star.

But I never had the courage to confess—especially when I felt I could be prettier or smarter. I thought, maybe one day, when I became “enough,” I would stand before him and tell him, “I like you.”

So, I silently vowed to myself to become better—good enough to deserve him.

“Daniel’s first in the grade again.”

“Yeah, he’s amazing. So good at studying, and he's so handsome. Have you seen him play basketball? I think he has abs!”

I overheard a group of girls chatting about him as I stood at the water station, their voices filled with admiration.

Back at my desk, Daniel handed me an apple. “My mom asked me to give this to you. You did well this time—keep it up.”

He ruffled my hair lightly before returning to his seat.

“I envy you and Daniel being neighbors,” my desk mate nudged my arm, resting her chin on her hand.

I wasn’t excluded just because I was close to Daniel. Like most students, I faced the usual challenges of preparing for the college entrance exams.

If everything went according to plan, I’d end up at the same university as him. But life had other plans.

A few days before the exams, his father had a tragic accident while driving at night. Despite exhausting all their savings, they couldn’t save him. The accident left them drowning in debt.

The loss of his father seemed to break him. He failed the entrance exam and decided not to repeat the year. Instead, he jumped straight into the workforce.

Meanwhile, I got into Harvard with the third-highest score in the province. I even tried to convince him to try again, telling him I’d wait for him at Harvard.

But he waved me off, saying he had to take care of his family. There was an unspoken sadness in his eyes when he looked at me.

Daniel was stubborn. Once he made up his mind, no amount of persuasion would change it.

That year, I was eighteen. It was my first time traveling so far—more than 10,000 kilometers to Massachusetts—leaving behind the first true separation between us.