On the eve of the wedding, I found a spreadsheet on Lucas' computer.
It was full of information about all the girls he had dated.
My message was: [Good character, suitable for marriage. ]
As for my first love, I said: [You are a bird, destined to soar proudly in the distant sky. ]
He said he would never marry her.
Because being his wife meant cooking three meals a day, raising children, and serving his parents.
He couldn't bear to see her do this.
I didn't yell or make a riot.
Instead, I returned to the TV station and applied to become a war correspondent in Africa again.
If it weren't for Lucas' face that looked like my first love, I wouldn't be with him.
And now, I'm going back to Africa to find the person I lost.