I Loved You, and That Was All
On my twentieth birthday, I found myself in a wretched state, forced to undergo a gastrectomy, all because of my boyfriend and my older sister. The scumbag and his mistress failed in their wish to leave the country together. The other woman pinned all the blame on me, and that so-called "Baoyu Jia," whom I happened to run into, even tried to take advantage of me. Who could have predicted that Luo Ange would claim he had problems in that regard and insisted I take responsibility? His method of making me "responsible" was to drug me, and after everything was over, he forced my ex-boyfriend into my bed. Imprisonment, a mad possessiveness—I mistook it for love. Yet, the truth hidden beneath was enough to make anyone sigh. A single explosion severed all love and hatred between us. Eight years later, can anything ever return to the way it was?
I Loved You, and That Was All
Today is my twentieth birthday. Months ago, Du Fanchuan had already told me, with an air of secrecy, that he was preparing a surprise for me.
At the time, I thought he was planning to take me to the registry office to get our marriage certificate. I secretly rejoiced for days, only to have my hopes dashed by my best friend: my birthday falls on New Year's Eve, and the registry office would be closed for the holiday.
Carrying the fireworks I’d bought for the evening, I went upstairs, opened the door, changed my shoes, and suddenly heard noises coming from inside the apartment.
For the past two years, my family has celebrated the New Year with Du Fanchuan’s family. Early this morning, my grandfather had taken my parents to the Du residence to help with preparations. There was no way anyone should be in my home. Could it be a burglar?
I grabbed a pair of scissors from a box in the shoe cabinet, held my breath, and crept toward the sound, finally stopping outside my bedroom door.
Through the crack of the half-closed door, I saw a trail of men’s shirts and trousers, women’s lace dresses, lingerie, and underwear, all strewn from the doorway to the bed. The closest item was a pair of pink high heels—the birthday gift I’d painstakingly saved up for through part-time jobs three months ago, which I had given to Yihua Yang.
So this is what it feels like to be struck by lightning. My mind went blank with a deafening roar as a surge of fury exploded within me. I kicked open the door.
The two people entangled on my bed shrieked in terror.
