My Love Died For The Wrong Person

When I was four months pregnant, my fiance, who was a doctor, left me hanging when we were supposed to get married. This was not the first time; this was the sixteenth time.

The first time, his nurse fainted at the sight of blood during an operation, and I waited for him for an entire day at the city hall.

The second time, his nurse called, and he left me behind on a viaduct to buy daily necessities for her.

Whenever we were about to get married, his nurse would call him for all sorts of problems.

The final time was when he told me he was sick. Despite the rain, I rushed to the hospital, only to find that it was his nurse who was sick.

He stayed by her side to care for her while he lied to me without batting an eye.

At that moment, I began to hate him.

I aborted our baby and left. But he chased after me and even traveled out of the country just to apologize.

The rain drenched my body.

Unlike my pathetic appearance, the atmosphere in the room was domestic and happy.

Garcia York, a nurse, was lying in bed. Meanwhile, Jonathan Pullman, my fiance, stayed beside her and told her to rest as he peeled an apple for her.

The apple skin never broke.

It showed that he was skilled at peeling apples.

I recalled the five years we spent together.

I loved eating apples, but I never managed to pick up the skill of peeling them. I even ended up injuring my hands a few times.

I used to ask Jonathan for help, but he would always scowl.

“Since it’s so bothersome, don’t eat it. The only knives I’ll hold are scalpels, not fruit knives.”

I stopped eating apples after that.

Yet, Jonathan picked up a fruit knife and peeled an apple for Garcia with his precious hands.

“I’m sorry. I prevented you from getting married to Elena again, Jonathan,” Garcia apologized with teary eyes, like a sad bunny.

Jonathan froze for a moment before he sternly said, “My marriage to Elena isn’t as important as your health. Don’t say such things again.”

I put my hand against the wall for support because I almost fell to my knees.

Jonathan had stood me up fifteen times when we were supposed to get married. But I never blamed him once for it.

However, during this sixteenth time, his words stabbed my heart like a knife.

It hurt so much that I trembled.

Before I could rush in to argue with them, they said something that struck my soul.

“If you hadn’t celebrated my birthday with me, you wouldn’t have drunk so much wine… I never expected Elena to do something so despicable.”

“It’s my fault. If I hadn’t drunk so much because I was too happy, she wouldn’t have had the chance to get pregnant and force me to marry her.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

That day, four