Of Lost Loves and Heartbreaks

I glanced around the familiar room, eyes landing on a carefully decorated box Bertrand had once prepared.

Inside were envelopes—his love letters to me—and a custom-made rose crystal necklace. It was a gift to mark our 100th day together.

He once said, "Annie, you're a passionate rose. And I want to be the one who holds it close."

After that, he wrote me a love letter every so often.

But ever since Marina entered the picture, the letters came less and less.

Today, I had exactly ninety-nine of them.

I tossed both the letters and the necklace into the fireplace. Then I went to the storage room and cleared out everything from our past.

The sky was growing darker when Bertrand called.

"Annie, something came up at work. I have to stay late, so I won't be coming home tonight…"

"Okay."

I hung up, dragged my suitcase out the door, and left our home without looking back.

But on the way to the airport, disaster struck.

A car spun out of control and crashed into mine.

The driver managed to scramble out.

I, too shocked to move, felt warmth spreading between my legs.

"My baby… please help me. I'm pregnant…"

The pain drained all my strength. I couldn't run.

The driver shouted as the gas tank caught fire. His words shook me to my core.

No one dared approach.

As the flames grew, I clenched my teeth and dragged myself out of the wreck.

Maybe it was my desperation that moved the driver. He turned back and pulled me to safety.

Trembling, I looked at him. "Could I… use your phone? I need to make a call."

Bertrand had connections. If he was willing to help, maybe my baby could be saved.

The driver handed me his phone.

I dialed Bertrand with shaking fingers.

"Bertrand… I was in a car accident…"

But it wasn't his voice I heard; it was Marina's soft, delicate tone.

"Boss, it's Annie. She got into a crash. You should go—"

Bertrand cut her off, furious. "Annie, enough! Stop using these pathetic tricks to bother me. I'm not answering your calls anymore."

Then he hung up.

The searing pain in my abdomen jolted me back to reality.

"My baby… please, save my baby…" I clutched the driver's sleeve, begging him.

But he gave me news that shattered me. "I'm sorry. The ambulance will take at least twenty minutes."

Overwhelmed, I lost consciousness.

When I woke again, I was lying in a hospital bed.

A nurse entered, her face tinged with pity.

"We couldn't save the baby… If you'd gotten here ten minutes earlier, there might have been hope."

Tears streamed down my face.

"Don't cry," she said gently. "You're still recovering. You need to avoid emotional stress."

All my IDs had been burned in the fire. I asked the nurse to contact a friend, who helped me get a new phone.

But just as I finished setting it up, Bertrand called.

"Annie, where the hell are you? I told you I'd meet you at the airport. Are you seriously throwing another tantrum?"

Listening to his furious voice, I was surprised by how calm I felt.

"Bertrand, I was in a car accident yesterday. You hung up on my call for help. Let's…"

Before I could say let's break up, his fury exploded.

"Annie, that's enough! Even if you're mad, there's a limit! You know how much I care about you, and you still say things like this to hurt me? If you don't want to go with me, then fine—our honeymoon's canceled!"

He hung up. And I no longer had the strength to argue.

Just then, the nurse handed me the miscarriage report.

"If it weren't for the accident, the baby would've been healthy. You took such good care of it."

Tears blurred my vision. "Thank you."

By the time I had fully recovered, my friend had already arranged for the baby's cremation.

Carrying my baby's ashes, I boarded a plane headed for Acreatic.