My Love Died For The Wrong Person
When I was four months pregnant, my fiance, who was a doctor, left me hanging when we were supposed to get married. This was not the first time; this was the sixteenth time.
The first time, his nurse fainted at the sight of blood during an operation, and I waited for him for an entire day at the city hall.
The second time, his nurse called, and he left me behind on a viaduct to buy daily necessities for her.
Whenever we were about to get married, his nurse would call him for all sorts of problems.
The final time was when he told me he was sick. Despite the rain, I rushed to the hospital, only to find that it was his nurse who was sick.
He stayed by her side to care for her while he lied to me without batting an eye.
At that moment, I began to hate him.
I aborted our baby and left. But he chased after me and even traveled out of the country just to apologize.
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