You Were My Only Once

On our wedding anniversary, I had a car accident, but my wife was unreachable.

It wasn't until I woke up that I learned she was actually at a karaoke bar, passionately kissing her first love.

She thought I'd still forgive her.

But when I asked for a divorce and decided to walk away, she regretted it.

However, love tended to wither away through sleepless nights and endless torment.

She was no longer my one and only.

——

The sudden crash left me pinned beneath the car, the world around me spinning in chaos. As I glanced at the crushed flowers in the passenger seat, a wave of relief washed over me—Amanda Miller hadn't been there.

Blood dripped from my forehead, splattering my phone screen and blurring my vision. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, the call I desperately tried to make couldn't connect, leaving only the cold, mechanical tone echoing in my ears.

When I finally opened my eyes again, I found myself staring up at the sterile ceiling of a hospital room. I scanned the area, but Amanda was nowhere in sight, and a pang of disappointment hit me.

She probably didn't even know I was in an accident yet.

My right hand was wrapped in bandages, but thankfully, my left was fine, and I didn't seem to have any other major injuries.

"You're awake! How are you feeling?" A nurse approached, ready to change my IV drip.

"I'm okay," I nodded, forcing a grateful smile.

But her expression shifted to one of sympathy as she said, "You should probably have a family member come in."

My heart sank at her words. I searched her face for any signs of what that could mean, unable to stop myself from asking about my condition. But she only replied that they still needed to wait for more test results.

I tried to brush off the unease creeping in and fished my phone out from under the covers. When the screen lit up, I noticed I had an unread message.

Panic surged through me. I had gotten into this accident without telling Amanda, and she must be worried sick right now.

But when I opened the message, I froze.

It was a photo—Amanda wrapped in the arms of another man. The sender was Russell Nelson. The dimly lit background suggested they were in a bar or a private room at a karaoke place.

So that was why Amanda hadn't answered my calls or texts; she was with her ex-boyfriend.

A heavy weight settled in my chest, and I instinctively pressed the call button.

When Amanda picked up, her voice was tinged with annoyance. "What's up?"

Even though she was trying to hide it, I could still hear a male voice in the background.

"Where are you?" My tone was thick with tension.

"I'm at work. You know I've been swamped lately, right? If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up!"

My fists clenched as I couldn't hold back my frustration. "Do you even remember what today is? Do you have any idea where I am right now?"

"Michael, what's with the attitude? I can't talk right now. We'll sort it out when I get home!"

And just like that, the line went dead.

I sat there, stunned, my hand still gripping the phone, feeling like I was spiraling down into despair. Today marked our third wedding anniversary, and in my haste to get home, I had collided with a car that ran a red light.

But Amanda had forgotten. Not only that, but she was also with Russell.

Russell was her junior in college and her former boyfriend. If it hadn't been for her parents' disapproval, they might have ended up together.

What have I done wrong? If she doesn't love me, why has she agreed to marry me in the first place?

Just then, the door to my hospital room swung open, and I looked up my heart racing. There she was—Amanda, standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.