Chapter 2

"You stand behind Aria," I replied.

There was silence from the other end for a moment.

I continued writing: "Zoran, please leave my life."

For a long while, no new words appeared.

Just when I thought I wouldn't receive a reply anymore, he left new writing.

The black ink was forcefully embedded into the paper.

"Fallon, I like you, don't you know? Why are you being so cruel to me?"

Looking at these words, I felt nothing but utter disgust.

The tear stains on my face hadn't fully dried yet.

I wrote:

"You like me? I'm cruel?"

"It's because of your 'liking' that I became the target of Aria's jealousy, got stabbed by her, and can never have children!"

"And you! You even got Aria pregnant with your child twelve years later!!"

"Zoran, you have no right to say those words to me."

Countless nights, I've been jolted awake by this memory, then sobbed uncontrollably.

12 years ago, on graduation photo day, Aria cried and begged Zoran to stand behind her, but Zoran firmly refused.

Furious, she found some thugs the next day and cornered me in an alley.

By the time Zoran arrived, I was already covered in blood.

He saw me on the brink of death and broke down in hysterical sobs.

He held me in his arms like a madman as he rushed to the hospital, falling to his knees outside the operating room to pray.

My life was saved, but my uterus was severely damaged. I would never be able to get pregnant.

That day, Zoran clutched my hand tightly, his shoulders shaking as he wept.

"Fallon, I'm just glad you're okay. We don't need children. I'll treasure you forever."

"Fallon, I swear I'll love and cherish you for the rest of my life."

But this same man who loved me so deeply would, years later, have an affair with Aria and even father her child.

I closed my eyes in despair.

Now, this diary is heaven's gift of a second chance, allowing me to erase Zoran from my life forever.

But this time, I received no reply.

Exhausted, I hugged the notebook and fell into a deep sleep.

In my dream, I seemed to return to when I was 18. Zoran was kneeling beside me, weeping uncontrollably and begging me to open my eyes.

A draft blew through, waking me with a chill. There was no one beside me.

The 30-year-old Zoran had chosen the person who hurt me the most in this world. He would never return to my side.

I opened my phone to see Aria's social media feed flooded with over 20 posts.

"Zoran arranged the shrimp he peeled for me into a heart shape."

"Winter's never cold with Zoran around."

"Zoran gave me and our son a family heirloom. He said he'll guard me alongside our son in the future~"

Under each post, Zoran's like was always there.

Our mutual friends also sent their blessings one after another.

"A perfect match! Your son's bound to be a gem. Can we arrange a marriage for our kids?"

"Only our sis Aria is worthy of bro Zoran."

"Congrats to bro Zoran on becoming a dad!!!"

I suppose Zoran must think I'm not good enough for him now, too.

I forced a smile, my eyes stinging with pain.

After turning off my phone, I drifted back into a hazy dream.

In my dream, I was back in that dark alley twelve years ago, with a group of rugged-looking thugs approaching me with ill intent.

They beat me black and blue, bleeding all over, but I couldn't wake up no matter what.

As I lay there, barely breathing, Aria rushed towards me with a knife.

I closed my eyes, but the excruciating pain I remembered in my abdomen didn't come.

When I opened my eyes in terror, I realized Zoran was shielding me.

He gritted his teeth, taking the stab meant for me.

Blood gushed from his wounds, yet he still fought with his last ounce of strength to drive away all the thugs.

In the dim light, the eighteen-year-old slowly dropped to one knee in a pool of blood.

Our eyes met, his gaze intense, filled with the pride and triumph of a victor.

He smiled, speaking slowly but firmly, "Fallon, I like you. I'll never let you get hurt."

"I... did it..."

He closed his eyes and collapsed in front of me.

I screamed his name, waking up drenched in sweat and gasping for air on the couch.

Hands tightly clutching my trembling body, I kept reassuring myself it was just a dream.

But as I touched my stomach, I realized the once uneven scars were gone.

In disbelief, I opened my diary.

Two new lines had appeared.

"Fallon, I'm hurt. It really hurts."

"But for you, I'm willing to endure it."

My tense emotions slowly settled.

The clock ticked to the next hour, and our wedding anniversary had passed.

Expressionless, I wrote: "It's not for me. It's what you owe me."