On my wedding day, Anson got a call from his old crush and just left. I chased after him and almost got hit by a car. The shock made me miscarry, and my dress was stained with blood. There he was, holding her, whispering, “Brenda, I’m here,” just like when he proposed to me. Turns out, he never loved me. I handed him divorce papers, and he tore them up, saying, “It’s just a small thing. I was comforting Brenda.” A small thing? He didn’t know he lost his child that day. He didn’t know I was dying inside.
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