My Ex Begged for My Forgiveness, But I Refused

Everyone around Francis seemed to be playing a role in his carefully constructed life.

Including his childhood sweetheart, Valerie.

When Julia first started dating Francis, Valerie had rushed to befriend her. At the time, Julia couldn’t understand why a wealthy socialite would bother with an orphan like her.

Later, Francis explained that Valerie had been his childhood friend—practically family. It was only natural for her to befriend Julia, he had said.

At the time, Valerie had a boyfriend who was a notorious gangster who had been in and out of prison. Despite her privileged upbringing, she loved him obsessively, even severing ties with her family when they cut off her allowance.

From then on, Francis had been the one supporting her. He paid for her expenses, bought her a single-family villa, and ensured she lived in comfort.

Meanwhile, Julia and Francis were crammed into a tiny 50-square-meter apartment, struggling to make ends meet. Julia juggled university teaching assistant work and night shifts just to pay their rent.

Even now, after seeing her exhausted and overworked, Francis felt guilty.

So, for their first anniversary, he planned a surprise.

A candlelit dinner, a table filled with home-cooked dishes, soft lighting that cast flickering shadows across their faces.

But Julia felt nothing.

This, too, was just another act. Another scene in Francis’ carefully orchestrated performance.

She played her part, smiling on cue, pretending to be moved.

That night, after a few drinks, they ended up tangled in each other.

Francis trailed kisses down her neck, his warmth lingering on her skin. But then—

A scent.

A woman’s perfume clung to his clothes.

The moment Julia recognized it, all desire vanished.

She tried to pull away, but Francis held her firmly in his arms.

Outside, the rain drummed steadily against the window, the air growing thick with heat.

Julia swore to herself that this would never happen again.

Just then, a phone rang, cutting through the moment.

And the voice on the other end was the last one Julia wanted to hear.

"Francis, my boyfriend’s in trouble! He just got arrested-"

"And I just found out I’m pregnant. What should I do, Francis? You won’t abandon me, will you?"

Julia watched as the man who had been in her arms mere seconds ago jumped up, grabbing his clothes in a hurry.

"I’ll be right there."

His voice was steady, unwavering.

At that moment, Julia finally understood.

Valerie would always come first.

She reached for Francis' hand, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you have to go? It's still raining outside…"

Francis paused, standing in the dim light. His face was obscured by shadows, but Julia could still sense the coldness in his eyes.

Whether it was hesitation or boredom, his silence hurt more than any words ever could.

Their marriage certificate had been fake.

So, their anniversary was fake, too.

She had only ever been his companion—someone to fill the void. Valerie, on the other hand, was his obsession.

The door clicked shut behind him.

A sharp, searing pain shot through Julia’s waist, the old wound flaring up like fire wrapping around her body. She broke into a cold sweat, her vision swimming.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself toward the bedside table, fumbling for painkillers. With shaking hands, she swallowed them dry.

As the medication took effect, her breathing steadied.

That was when she felt something crumpled beneath her fingers.

A faded, worn piece of paper that was tucked away in the deepest corner of the drawer.

It was the only photograph her parents had left her.

For years, she had carried it wherever she went.

Clutching it to her chest, she closed her eyes, feeling the faint rhythm of her heartbeat beneath the fragile paper.

And then, she broke.

Tears spilled down her face, silent at first, then wracking her body with sobs.

The grief, the loneliness, the betrayal. All of them poured out at once, as relentless as the rain pounding against the window.

In the darkness, she didn’t notice the phone buzzing beside her.

A message from her professor.

[Professor: Hello, Julia. Please come to the Archaeological Research Institute at ten o’clock tomorrow.]