Moving On

I called out to him, "Jason! Darling!"

Alas, my newlywed husband never looked back even once. The sound of his hurried footsteps crushed my self-esteem to pieces.

The skin on my shoulders was also burning with pain.

I bit my lips and blinked rapidly to try and stop my tears from flowing. Once my vision was crystal clear, all I saw was an empty room.

Jason did not return. He did not bring cold water to tend to my scalds and comfort me. He left me in the room to bear the pain, all to chase after Sylvie who was afraid of the dark.

I was his newlywed wife. We exchanged vows in front of his family and friends. He promised that he would always love me, care for me and put me first.

Even when he was courting me, I knew that he once had a relationship that ended on extremely bad terms. He promised me time and again that everything was in the past, and that hate had turned to indifference. Through his promises, I gradually opened my heart up to him, fell in love with him, and eventually married him.

As I endured the scalding pain and stood up, I stepped on a hard item.

It was my wedding ring.

Sylvie mentioned earlier that a wedding ring with a pink diamond was something she had agreed on with Jason. I personally loathe them and prefer simple bands in gold or silver.

Jason knew that, but he had an apologetic explanation ready when he showed me the ring. Apparently, it was love at first sight for him when he first met me, and he immediately placed an order for that pink diamond ring because he thought it would be a symbol of his love.

I was so beside myself with joy after hearing his words that I stopped him from making any customizations and insisted I liked it the way it was.

Who would have known that there was only a pink diamond on the ring because he had an agreement with Sylvie.

I could not help but wonder what was going through Jason's mind when he put this ring on me. Was he mocking Sylvie for missing out on the pink diamond ring she wanted, or was he happy to marry me?

The scene of yesterday's wedding was still fresh in my mind.

At that time, Jason said firmly, "I've been looking forward to this day since I first met you. We're finally husband and wife. If you're ever unhappy with me in the future, tell me, and I will turn over a new leaf. If it's something I can't change, I will give you a proper explanation. Whatever you do, please don't just vanish on me."

"Okay," I agreed, feeling bad for him because of the bad breakup.

I had not expected our first day as a married couple to turn out in such a manner.

The door swung open all of a sudden.

I froze.

I felt sad, but also hopeful.

I decided that I would forgive Jason if he came back with some medication to treat my scalding.

Even if he did not bring any medication, I would still listen to his explanation once he returned.

When I looked up, I saw two drunken men staggering in.

My heart was in my throat.

One of the men said, "I knew something must be going on when a room door is open and the place just reeks of sweat. Look at all those love marks on your body. Why don't you keep me company and I'll pay you whatever amount you want?"

The two men walked toward me and cornered me at my left and right.

I clutched the towel covering my body, and the only item I could use to protect myself from them was the kettle.

"Stay away! My husband will be back soon!" I warned, lacking in confidence.

My hands continued to clench the kettle.

The two men smiled lewdly as they approached me. One of them picked up the marriage certificate from the bedside table and said, "This man is your husband? He was kissing another woman at the elevator entrance! He can't care less about you right now, so you'll be fine if you just keep this between us."

The man grinned and held out his hand to me.

"Jason! Help!" I yelled as I had never yelled before in my life.

Startled, the man slapped me.

I picked up the kettle and threw it at him, all while shouting Jason's name in desperation. He once told me that he would always come to me if he heard me calling his name, yet such a miracle did not happen.

The other drunk man came up to help and they swiftly prevented me from resisting.

As despair gripped me, the door swung open again.

I shouted once more, "Jason! Help me! Help me, please!"

The person entering the room was not Jason, but a janitor. She rushed over and pushed the two drunks aside.

The ruckus attracted more people into the room.

Someone held down two drunk men, while another called the police.

One person handed me some clothes, telling me to go get dressed in the bathroom.

I went in and put on my clothes like a robot, and the pain in my shoulder brought me back to my senses.

I endured the pain, put on my clothes, and walked out of the bathroom trembling.

The room was already quiet, with only the janitor and another woman guarding the door.

Jason was still nowhere to be seen.

As the manager, Sylvie should have been there to deal with the situation when such incidents occurred. But she was nowhere to be found.

The janitor handed me some tissues and a cup of warm water. "Are you okay?"