He Pretended to Be the One, But He Was Never Yours

Clara gritted her teeth in anger. "Damon, that shameless bastard! He eats my food, drinks my drinks, and still dares to sneak around behind my back with other women. This is not going to end like this. I’m calling him right now, and I’m going to get to the bottom of this!"

As she was about to dial Damon’s number, I quickly stopped her.

"Calm down. You’re pregnant, so take a moment to settle your emotions first. You need to test the waters with him and see what’s really going on. As long as he’s seeing other women, you’ll catch him. With someone like Damon, if you don’t have concrete proof, he’ll never admit to anything. Don’t make any moves that might tip him off."

Clara’s face turned red with fury as she panted, slapping her chest.

"Is there a man in the world who doesn't act like this? Why do they always have to go outside? Is the trash out there really better than what's at home?"

Her words left me in silence, as it hit a little too close to home. My ex had dumped me for a woman who worked as a hostess.

Five years of love meant nothing compared to their 24 hours together.

"Just listen to me for now. Go home and check his phone to see if there’s anything you shouldn’t find. Stay calm and wait for the right moment—better to catch him red-handed."

At that moment, I couldn’t help but glance at Clara, worry creeping in.

"If Damon really did something to betray you, would you still forgive him?"

Clara looked at me, confused, and replied without hesitation, "Do I look like the kind of person who would forgive him? If he did something like that before we were even married, what’s he going to do after? If I catch him, I’m done with him."

Hearing that, a weight lifted off my chest.

The natural reaction when discovering your boyfriend has cheated is usually to break up. Very few people would even consider forgiveness.

Because men are like dogs, and you can’t change their nature. No matter how many times you yell or punish them, they still go back to their bad habits.

But still, I couldn’t shake off my worries about Clara.

Having a "love brain" is a sickness. And Clara wasn’t just love-stricken—she was aware of what was happening, yet still falling deeper, giving everything without holding back. It was the kind of situation that no amount of reasoning could fix.

But hearing Clara’s words, I didn’t press her further. I just reassured her a little and told her to go home.

Later that night, as I was drifting in and out of sleep, my phone started buzzing with a flurry of messages.

I squinted at the screen and saw that all the messages were from Clara.

They were long voice notes, but before I could listen, a strange number called.

I answered, and immediately, an angry voice came through the line.

"Elena Vance, are you out of your mind? Just because your own relationship is falling apart, you want to drag everyone else down with you? What the hell are you talking about? Where the hell did you see me cheating? Tell me, which eye of yours saw that?"