No Longer Yours, My Ex-fiance

For the ninety-seventh time, my boyfriend of eight years was in a secret relationship, Soren Whitaker, once again chose to abandon me for his first love, Hannah Ruiz. The first time was on the day he proposed to me. Coincidentally, it was also the day Hannah returned to the country. I waited for him by the seaside, standing in the cold wind all night. The second time was on my twenty-fifth birthday, a party he had carefully planned. On the way home, we were ambushed. To protect the two of them, I was seriously injured. Yet Soren left me behind and carried Hannah away. This time, the ninety-seventh time, I was in my second trimester of pregnancy. I slipped at home. I called him. He said he’d be there soon. I endured the sharp, unbearable pain and waited for half an hour. The ambulance arrived and just then, I got a message from him, saying, [Hannah’s depression flared up. I have to go to her.] I didn’t reply. I simply picked up the pen and signed the surgery consent form myself. The baby couldn’t be saved. After crying through the night, I greeted Soren the next day with a cheerful smile. What he didn’t know was that I was only waiting for the ninety-ninth time he would hurt me. After that, I would leave completely. Just because he had once been kind to me ninety-nine times. But when I finally boarded the helicopter to Europe and reclaimed my identity, why did he break down in tears, begging me to look at him just one last time?