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

As the minutes ticked by, I grew impatient waiting for Preston to break the silence. I felt my life slipping away once again.


Just as I was about to walk out, I noticed his expression change from frustration to fear.


After sharing seven years of our lives, it was the first time his tone carried a hint of remorse.


"Olivia, wait!" he called out, his voice tinged with urgency. "I realize I've been so wrapped up in my job that I've ignored you. I understand why you did something so drastic. It's okay. I don't hold it against you. It's just a small penalty, right? Just promise you'll return with me tomorrow, and we can pretend this never happened. I really miss your home-cooked meals, you know."


As soon as he mentioned my cooking, a flood of memories rushed back.


Just eight weeks ago, during a hectic workday, Preston unexpectedly messaged me, requesting a steak burrito bowl.


7#07