Bonds Broken, Love Forgotten

Although my mother has passed away, as a strong and independent woman, she left me a substantial inheritance. This money is enough to cover my tuition, living expenses, and even if I wanted to study abroad, it would be more than sufficient.

Having suffered because of men, my mother feared I would repeat the same mistakes. So, she entrusted the money to a trustee.

Every year, I could withdraw a portion, but I wouldn't be able to access the full amount until my monthly income exceeded the average withdrawal amount she left for me, and remained stable for two years.

I understand why she did this.

When my mother married my father, it was purely a downward marriage.

My grandparents were so furious that they severed ties with her.

My stubborn mother packed a suitcase and left with my father without a backward glance. Then, using her years of pocket money, she bought a house. From that point on, she never contacted her parents again.

When I was little, I asked her, "Mom, don't you miss your parents?"

At that moment, my mother's face grew pale, and she fell silent for a long time before replying, "Your grandmother and grandfather can't look at me anymore. "

Then, holding me close, she said, "Elly, all men in this world are untrustworthy. I don't want you to suffer like I did. I hope you'll have the chance to regret your choices."

This money, it was my mother's way of giving me the chance to regret.

So, even after I married Damien, I never told him about the money.

I knew that this money was my mother's way of ensuring my security, so I silently made a decision: unless absolutely necessary, I would try not to touch it.

At the time when Damien met me, I was living on a tight budget. When I didn't have classes, I would go out and take part-time jobs to earn my living expenses.

Because of this, he always believed my financial situation was the same as his.

Looking back now, I wonder-if Damien had known that I wasn't actually struggling financially, perhaps he wouldn't have pursued me.

What he wanted wasn't someone with an independent personality, but rather someone who needed to cling to him like a parasite.

But at the time, I hadn't realized that.

He chased me for three years, confessed to me forty times.

At first, I rejected him outright. Then, I couldn't bear to keep saying no, so I allowed those around us to say we were a couple without correcting them.

I craved the feeling of being chosen, of being wanted that badly.

The forty-first time he confessed, I said yes.

Why? Because that year, I fell ill.

And Damien, without hesitation, donated his liver to save me.

Lying in that hospital bed, he confessed again.

I looked at his pale face and thought, This man, who's willing to give up so much for me, can't be as heartless as my father.

I decided to trust him.

When I gave him my answer, he held me and cried like a child.

But inside, I thought, Fate really is cruel. I've always feared love because of what my father did, yet it's because of his mistakes that I ended up choosing someone to be my mate.

Yes, my illness was the result of my father's affair years ago. He contracted hepatitis B and passed it on to me.

By the time we discovered it, it was too late. Even though my mother tried every treatment possible, the damage had already been done after years of living with the disease.

The pressure of graduating finally broke me, and my body collapsed. The only option left was a liver transplant.

At the time, all I could feel was the bitter irony. I never stopped to think that I was gambling with my happiness because of the pain my father caused me. And in that moment, I realized, this was a doomed start from the very beginning.

Although my mother has passed away, as a strong and independent woman, she left me a substantial inheritance. This money is enough to cover my tuition, living expenses, and even if I wanted to study abroad, it would be more than sufficient.

Having suffered because of men, my mother feared I would repeat the same mistakes. So, she entrusted the money to a trustee.

Every year, I could withdraw a portion, but I wouldn't be able to access the full amount until my monthly income exceeded the average withdrawal amount she left for me, and remained stable for two years.

I understand why she did this.

When my mother married my father, it was purely a downward marriage.

My grandparents were so furious that they severed ties with her.

My stubborn mother packed a suitcase and left with my father without a backward glance. Then, using her years of pocket money, she bought a house. From that point on, she never contacted her parents again.

When I was little, I asked her, "Mom, don't you miss your parents?"

At that moment, my mother's face grew pale, and she fell silent for a long time before replying, "Your grandmother and grandfather can't look at me anymore. "

Then, holding me close, she said, "Elly, all men in this world are untrustworthy. I don't want you to suffer like I did. I hope you'll have the chance to regret your choices."

This money, it was my mother's way of giving me the chance to regret.

So, even after I married Damien, I never told him about the money.

I knew that this money was my mother's way of ensuring my security, so I silently made a decision: unless absolutely necessary, I would try not to touch it.

At the time when Damien met me, I was living on a tight budget. When I didn't have classes, I would go out and take part-time jobs to earn my living expenses.

Because of this, he always believed my financial situation was the same as his.

Looking back now, I wonder-if Damien had known that I wasn't actually struggling financially, perhaps he wouldn't have pursued me.

What he wanted wasn't someone with an independent personality, but rather someone who needed to cling to him like a parasite.

But at the time, I hadn't realized that.

He chased me for three years, confessed to me forty times.

At first, I rejected him outright. Then, I couldn't bear to keep saying no, so I allowed those around us to say we were a couple without correcting them.

I craved the feeling of being chosen, of being wanted that badly.

The forty-first time he confessed, I said yes.

Why? Because that year, I fell ill.

And Damien, without hesitation, donated his liver to save me.

Lying in that hospital bed, he confessed again.

I looked at his pale face and thought, This man, who's willing to give up so much for me, can't be as heartless as my father.

I decided to trust him.

When I gave him my answer, he held me and cried like a child.

But inside, I thought, Fate really is cruel. I've always feared love because of what my father did, yet it's because of his mistakes that I ended up choosing someone to be my mate.

Yes, my illness was the result of my father's affair years ago. He contracted hepatitis B and passed it on to me.

By the time we discovered it, it was too late. Even though my mother tried every treatment possible, the damage had already been done after years of living with the disease.

The pressure of graduating finally broke me, and my body collapsed. The only option left was a liver transplant.

At the time, all I could feel was the bitter irony. I never stopped to think that I was gambling with my happiness because of the pain my father caused me. And in that moment, I realized, this was a doomed start from the very beginning.