Lovestory7–Chapter 1
Because I was in a hurry to go home to celebrate our wedding anniversary, I fell down the stairs and sprained my foot.
I messaged Braydon, hoping that he could come to the company to pick me up after work.
I eagerly waited for his arrival, wanting to personally give him the flowers.
But he coldly replied with just one sentence, “There’s a gathering tonight, you can just have something to eat on your own.”
“There are no random people,
As if afraid that I would misunderstand, he even added a sentence, “There are no r they are all childhood friends.”
felt like a bucket of cold water was poured over my head. I casually threw the flowers into the trash can and took a taxi to the hospital.
The doctor asked me where my family member was, and I instinctively replied, “He was in a
meeting.”
When I realized it, I found it laughable.
So I changed my wording and said, “Sorry, I became a widow.”
The abortion surgery was very successful, and I didn’t feel much pain. I just felt empty inside, as if something had been taken away from me.
On the way back by taxi, I saw a familiar car heading toward the hospital.
I instinctively wanted to message Braydon and ask him what happened.
But he found that his good friend had posted a timeline, “The days without the mother tiger’s inspection are relaxing, Braydon really cares about Lilian.”
The illustration shows Braydon gazing at the little green plum on the hospital bed with tender eyes.
They were a group of friends that he grew up with, consisting of four boys and one girl.
In this small community, he and Lilian Woodward were recognized as the golden couple. If it weren’t for Lilian being deceived and marrying a foreigner, there was no way I would have had a chance to marry Braydon.
Afterward, Lilian got divorced and returned to her home country with her son. I became even more of a malicious supporting character who broke up the perfect match.
They wouldn’t blame Lilian for leaving Braydon, they would only blame me for interfering in their
elationship.
Their small group had a blast, always drinking until late at night. I worried about Braydon’s
stomach, so I would often call him to urge him to come home.
Over time, this group of people grew more and more disgusted with me, considering my inspections to be a dampener. They secretly gave me the nickname “Tigress.”
When visiting my house, they treated me like a babysitter, giving me orders.
Today, Braydon once again chose to abandon The.
That’s fine, at least I won’t be soft–hearted anymore.
I liked this Timeline post, but the other person quickly deleted it, as if they had forgotten to block
- me.
In the middle of the night, around three o’clock, Braydon finally came back with a strong
rong smell of alcohol. He lingered in the dining room for a while before quietly pushing open the bedroom door.
Seeing that I was still awake, a hint of panic flashed in his eyes, but he gently covered me with the blanket.
“Wasn’t there anyone to cook hangover soup for me today?”
I nodded.
No matter how strong the smell of alcohol was, it couldn’t cover up the hint of perfume on him, which made me feel a little nauseous.
He sighed, as if he wanted to say something but held back, and in the end, only one sentence remained.
“You were pregnant, take good rest.
