When I Traded Love Away, He Begged for It Back

When I got into a car accident, Carter was busy throwing a birthday party for his assistant. I was scrolling through my phone and somehow ended up tapping on the Love Pawnshop. Without really thinking, I hit the button to pawn my love.

Five days later, the pawnshop took back every bit of love I had left to give, and there he was, Carter, on his knees, crying his heart out, begging me for another shot.

But the thing is, once love is pawned, it’s almost impossible to get back.

I must have called Carter over a dozen times after the car accident.

When he finally picked up, all I got was a half-hearted reply saying, "I’m busy. Whatever it is, we’ll talk at home."

Before I could say anything, the line went dead.

However, just before he hung up, I caught a faint giggle in the background. "Carter, it’s time to blow out the candles!"

I sat there for a moment, stunned.

Even though I was shaking, I ignored the pain I was feeling and opened Carter’s social media.

The top post, uploaded just a minute ago, read, "Happy birthday to the little princess."

The photo showed Carter with his arm around Ruby, who was blushing like crazy. He was staring at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

It was his assistant’s birthday party.

The realization hit me like a truck.

My vision blurred, and before I knew it, everything went black.

I woke up in a hospital bed, surrounded by the pungent smell of antiseptic and the buzzing chatter and activity of busy nurses.

Thankfully, I was conscious enough to call an ambulance before trying to reach Carter.

The staff soon noticed I was awake and rushed over.

"Mild concussion from the accident," one said, "Plus fainting from emotional distress. You’ve got a few scrapes too. Call your family and stay here for a couple of days. Also, whatever you do, avoid stress."

The doctor handed me my phone and walked out.

Six hours. That was how long it had been since the accident. Despite that, I had not received a single call back from Carter.

I laughed bitterly. Somehow, the ache in my heart hurt more than the physical injuries I suffered.

When did things between us get this bad?

Just then, a weird little tune shattered my reverie.

I glanced at my phone.

A random page and notification had popped up.

"Love Pawnshop: Trade your love for a shot at redemption."

I read it out softly, with a volume that was barely above a whisper.

That must have triggered Siri because a tiny avatar appeared on-screen.

"Welcome to the Love Pawnshop," it said, its voice robotic and clipped. "Would you like to pawn your love?"

I froze. Pawn my love?

Me and Carter’s love?

We would have been together for a decade now—seven years dating, three years married.

Back then, we were the definition of a dream couple.

He was