Misplaced Marriage of Past Era A Love and Hate Tragedy

After failing the college entrance exam, I was kidnapped by a criminal and assaulted in a barn. It sparked rumors of infidelity.

The very next day, my boyfriend—my partner for years—broke off our engagement and quickly married a new female soldier named Margaret Carter.

The village was rife with gossip and my mother, who had raised me alone, collapsed from the stress.

In my darkest moment, Richard Harisson, a new commander in the country’s ranks, came to our house with a marriage proposal.

He offered to marry me and promised to make me the commander's wife. His proposal felt like a ray of hope breaking through my despair and I accepted it without a second thought.

During our four years of marriage, we maintained a respectful distance.

One day, while I was three months pregnant and visiting the military base to bring him lunch, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and the village chief.

“Rick, you had me swap Evelyn's acceptance letter for Maggie's so they wouldn’t end up together,” the chief said.

“But why did you have to ruin her reputation? A woman’s honor is incredibly important,” he continued.

After a brief silence, I heard Richard respond, “There was no other choice; the only way to ensure Tom the Scholar would completely let go was to take away her purity.”

“I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Maggie.”

***

Just a wall away, I observed the village chief shaking his head in a gesture of reluctant sympathy.

“But is this not rather cruel to Evelyn? She did not have the opportunity to attend university and now toils at the factory, enduring the most arduous of labors, while some even dare to call her a harlot.”

“Are you not afraid that one day she shall discover the truth…”

Before the village chief could finish, Richard’s deep voice interjected, “She shall not find out!”

“I have married her with the intent of using the remainder of my life to atone.”

“Indeed, it was my design to ensure her pregnancy, for my actions have long since led to her mother’s stroke, stemming from the malicious rumors I spread…”

Upon hearing this, the lunchbox I clutched nearly fell from my grasp as I hurried to the staircase. My trembling fingers brushed against the slight curve of my belly and tears erupted from my eyes, unable to be contained.

I could never have fathomed that the very man who once rescued me from despair would ultimately become the architect of my ruin. The marriage I had cherished and the child I bore were but a paltry compensation for his guilt.

In his eyes, my innocence held little value when weighed against Margaret’s happiness.

The haunting memory of my mother, just before her passing, beseeching Richard and me to cherish our lives together, twisted my stomach with a tumult of anguish.

As I leaned against the wall, fighting the nausea that surged within me, Richard's urgent voice suddenly called from behind, "Eve, my dear, what troubles you? Are you unwell?"

He hastened to my side, inadvertently knocking over the lunchbox, causing the scalding sauce to splash upon his hand.

Yet he seemed oblivious to his own discomfort, as he gently enfolded me in his embrace, a hint of guilt tinging his tone.

"It is entirely my fault. I rushed from home this morning, forgetting the lunch I had promised you, thus forcing you to make this long journey."

"I think the heat has affected your condition; come, let’s get you rest in my room."

With that, Richard lifted me effortlessly and laid me upon the bed. His movements bore the same tenderness as before, yet I could no longer sense the warmth in his affection.

With eyes brimming with unshed tears, I remained silent and Richard, mistaking my quietude for discomfort, hurried off to fetch some sweetened water from the infirmary, leaving me to observe my surroundings.

Since our marriage, he had often spoken of the need for discipline within the army, emphasizing the importance of maintaining a certain distance, which had kept me from ever stepping foot in his private space.

As I sought some semblance of understanding in my disquiet, my gaze fell upon a pink notebook resting upon the bookshelf, stirring my curiosity.

It was well known that Richard was a man of stern demeanor. He did not allow bright colors to be in his room.