ManyWriters

I was driving when a tragic accident took my unborn child. Preston happened to pass by with his female colleague in the car. He noticed my blood-stained white dress, blocked his assistant's view, and coldly remarked, "Tough luck. Don't look." Then he drove away quickly.
That evening, while in our bedroom, I discovered an unfamiliar lace bra tucked away in our wardrobe—certainly not mine. I shut the closet and calmly phoned someone. "Mr. Miller, I've decided. I can relocate and start at your firm next week."

Betrayed and Bleeding, From Devoted Wife to Determined Escapee

Initially, I wondered if my message to Preston had failed to deliver. But that notion was ridiculous; it didn't make sense. Even if by some strange chance the message hadn't gone through, he was intelligent enough to grasp the meaning of my resignation.


So why was he here, at my parents' home, acting as if this situation was incomprehensible?


I chose not to voice my questions. Instead, I looked at him dispassionately, my tolerance waning.


"If you truly didn't understand, allow me to clarify," I stated, keeping my tone even but resolute. "Preston, I'm ending our relationship. Is that clear? Or should I repeat it until you comprehend?"


"No matter how many times you say it, my stance remains unchanged." His teeth clenched. His complexion lightened as he fixed his unyielding, icy stare on me.


"Riley, I don't accept this breakup. I've done nothing wrong. What justification do you have for ending things like this?"


6#06