What a story A3U

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16/09/2026

Ethan wore the dress that his sister never had enough time to wear.

The audience responded with laughter.

He had barely reached his principal when the first whispers began to spread. Above the seats, phones were recording the boy in a red dress as though his pain was entertainment.

What's wrong with that guy, you ask?

I heard the question behind me and felt my program crumple.

Ethan did not stop.

He accepted his diploma and shook the principal’s hand before descending the side steps in front of hundreds of eyes. He kept moving despite his stiff shoulders and clenched jaw, as if the noise couldn't define who he is.

I knew better

Ethan asked me to remain in the third row. I was the only person who understood what the dress meant.

I found him awake two weeks earlier at two in the afternoon. He was at the kitchen with the red dress folded on his lap and untouched tea in his hands.

His face still bore the features of Lily, his twin sister. This resemblance, even at the age of 18, could make him look unattractive.

He told me, "I'm wearing it at graduation."

Lily had chosen the dress. She wanted a color that no one could miss, and I helped her find it.

I told Ethan that it would be funny. People would laugh. They would take photos, share them and turn him into a cruel thing for strangers to talk about.

He did not argue me.

I know.

Why do you do it?

His fingers moved over the fabric.

It doesn't really matter.

It is important to me.

Lily and Ethan used to compete in our home. Their closeness was deeper than any argument. They fought about grades, food and the front seat. They followed each other everywhere.

Then Lily became ill.

The future they had planned was dissolved by hospital corridors and schedules of medication. The dress was left untouched in the garment bag until Lily's death.

Ethan stopped talking about graduation. His silence became so complete that his father Mark seemed to be unable reach him.

Mark's anger was a result of his grief. He aimed it at doctors, himself, me, and Ethan.

Mark told Ethan not to wear Lily's dress when he announced that Ethan would.

My graduation is coming up.

Wear something appropriate.

This is a good choice.

Mark accused him that he had turned the ceremony into a circus. Ethan told him that the choice wasn't about him.

Mark replied with a sentence he would never be able to take back.

It shouldn't even be about your sister.

Ethan stayed still.

Mark said that he would not allow people to laugh at his son.

Ethan replied, "Then don't come."

Mark picked up his key and walked away. He chose to not attend.

Noah, Ethan’s closest friend, pulled away as well. He thought at first that the dress was a joke. Noah stopped talking after Ethan showed him the dress.

Ethan acknowledged that the rejection hurt. He also insisted it would not affect what he decided to do.

Even the school tried redirecting him. The assistant principal offered an extra suit on graduation day, explaining politely that they wanted to avoid discomfort for others.

Ethan thanked her but said no.

He had another plan. The school would display Lily's photo on the big screen when he gave the command. They knew of her death but did not understand the significance of the red dress.

Ethan stood in the middle of his class during the ceremony while ridicule gathered all around him. Ethan was aware of every laugh, every stare and every raised cell phone, but he chose not to show it.

The principal then called his name.

He crossed the stage by himself.

After receiving his diploma, he ignored all the photographers waiting and entered the middle aisle. As he walked towards my chair, the crowd became louder.

When he finally reached me, his brave expression that he had worn throughout the morning finally broke.

He said, "This is for you."

His voice was almost a whisper.

Both of us.

He reached into the pocket and pulled out a small package wrapped in thin paper.

The laughter continued for a few seconds.

Then he unwrapped the package.

A yellow daisy was inside. It was flattened and dried, with one petal missing and a stem that had darkened over time.

I knew this flower.

Lily had found it near the hospital the day we went dress shopping. She was strong enough to leave the house for a few minutes and desperate for something normal. She had smiled, teased Ethan and stolen the daisy off the garden walkway.

Now Ethan held the ball between his fingers.

Lily gave me the book.

He opened the last piece of paper.

My daughter's handwriting was all over the surface of a small note hidden under the flower.

The last of laughter has disappeared.

Ethan said, "She gave it to me just three days before her death."

My hands shook when he placed the letter in them.

Why didn't I know?

She made me promise.

He sat down beside my chair as I struggled to unfold the folded paper.

Read it.

If you'd like to read what Lily wrote in the comments, please leave "YES" and I will share the continuation.

My key wouldn't turn. The second warning was when I heard a security bolt slide along the inside of my front door.The re...
16/09/2026

My key wouldn't turn. The second warning was when I heard a security bolt slide along the inside of my front door.

The real shock came when my sister's partner told me that they had documents proving that I could not force them to leave.

Open the door now! I'm going to call someone to remove these locks!

I slammed the door so hard that it stung my hand.

Hannah peered out after a long silence. She was half asleep, pregnant and dressed in my emerald-silk robe.

My robe

Its hem was sweeping the dirt from the hall floor.

What's wrong with Claire?

She rubbed both her eyes and placed her palm on her belly.

We're still trying sleep.

I pushed her aside and stopped.

The entrance to my apartment no longer looked like it. The wall was covered with worn-out men's trainers. The console was covered in takeaway menus and other rubbish. A cigarette packet was among the clutter.

Then I noticed a ficus.

There was a cigarette tip in the soil, and a pale dusting on its green leaves.

The sight of it made everything worse.

Remove my dressing gown

Hannah looked at me and blinked.

-- What?

Remove it. Pack your belongings. You will both be leaving in ten minute.

Before she could answer, a lazy voice answered.

Counselor, that's not what will happen.

Ryan, in loose gray boxers and a bottle beer, leaned casually against the kitchen doorway.

He smiled at my face.

You're making a great deal of noise for someone that knows the law.

Ryan, get out of my house!

He laughed for a few seconds.

We are here legally

Hannah moved closer to him immediately.

Be reasonable, Claire. You have three bedrooms, but no one else lives in the house. I'm pregnant. We need space. Why is it so bad for your family to live with you?

I stared at her.

She spoke as if they had asked.

As if I had agreed.

Ryan swung the bottle at me.

We have the documents. You can shout as loud as you want, but you cannot just throw us out on the street. We've been registered here for many years.

The word "that" stopped me.

Registered.

I shut the door and went straight to my bedroom. Ryan said something rude to me behind me, but the sound faded away.

Now, my pulse was racing for a completely different reason.

I opened my laptop, and signed in to the council housing portal.

The property record was loaded so slowly that it felt deliberate.

I then saw two entries that were unfamiliar attached to my address.

Hannah.

Ryan.

Temporary occupants.

Duration: Five years

I read the document twice before opening any supporting documents.

It was described as an agreement for rent-free occupancy between the residents and legal owner of the property.

There was only one issue.

I had never signed an agreement like that.

There, at the bottom, was my name.

It was a signature that someone had tried to look like mine.

My mouth went dry.

I zoomed in.

The shape was similar enough to fool someone that had never seen me before sign documents. But I was a property contract specialist for a living. I knew my signature from every angle, stroke and habitual movement.

This is a fake.

They stole more than my flat.

They had faked evidence that I had invited me to live there.

I was shocked to discover that my hands were now cold.

People don't fake legal documents because they want a place to sleep over the weekend.

Ryan and Hannah prepared this before I found them behind my front door.

The reason they needed the false agreement was because of what happened next.

Comment "yes" to get the continuation.

15/09/2026

The baby in my hands was only three months old and yet she had already turned me family against me.

Lily was born at the age of 79. Claire and David now wanted a judge to declare that I was incapable of taking care of myself, managing my estate, or raising my child.

Lily slept peacefully on my chest as I sat next to my attorney. Claire was sitting at the opposite table with a thick folder pressed against her body. David sat beside her, looking more like an angry claimant than a worried son.

--Mrs. Harper, the judge has announced that your children have told you that you are no longer able to make important decisions. They want to take control of your medical care, your estate and your daughter's legal guardianship.

Claire stared back at me.

Do you really think I'm crazy?

Her eyes met mine at last.

--You're seventy nine, Mom. You brought a newborn baby home from the hospital and claimed she was yours. You refuse to identify the father of her child or explain how she was born, and plan to make her your heir.

I never promised her my entire fortune.

David said coldly, "Not yet." Your attorney has already prepared the documents.

His words were accusatory, not compassionate.

Until my pregnancy became known, my children had acted devoted. They called every Sunday, sent birthday flowers and proudly presented themselves to be loving children.

When I became pregnant their affection vanished.

Claire said that I was disgracing my family. David told me to give up my baby. When I refused, the police questioned my doctor and looked for proof that I'd changed my will or given anything to a new person.

Their true fear became apparent. They were not trying to protect me from a medical choice. They were protecting their heirloom from a girl who would legally stand next to them.

The judge turned pages in my medical file.

Your pregnancy was monitored by a team. Their reports state that you understood the treatment, including all of the significant dangers. They also say that you were mentally competent.

David leans forward.

These specialists were paid. Our mother is rich. Anyone can be convinced to change their mind with enough money.

The expression of the judge became more stern.

You will not interrupt me ever again.

David sat down, his fingers tucked under the table.

Claire's attorney rose next.

Your husband was declared dead 46 years ago, wasn't it?

--Yes.

You did not remarry following his death?

--No.

He presented an old photograph of a funeral to the judge. It showed me in mourning at age 33, standing next to Henry's sealed coffin.

How would you explain this child's birth?

The courtroom was filled with a restless murmur. I pulled Lily closer to me.

I will explain everything, but only after another person arrives.

Who is this person? The judge asked.

I looked at the door.

The doors were still closed.

He had promised to come. The place reserved for him was still empty after almost forty minutes.

Fear spread slowly through me. Perhaps my children had stopped him. He may have reconsidered his decision and decided not to go to court.

Claire's attorney holds up the photo.

Are you really saying that the father your newborn is an old man who was buried fifty years ago?

Claire shook her head and glared at me.

You mean Dad?

Her voice broke.

It's impossible, Mom!

I can see why you feel that way.

--No! She cried. You've lost your touch with reality, everyone can see it!

Lily shook at the sound. She woke up and started moving against me while I tried comforting her with hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

The judge asked for the child's medical records and birth certificate. My lawyer placed the folder before him.

He explained that the records were authentic. Genetic tests confirm Lily's biological relationship to Mrs. Harper.

The judge scanned the documents and then raised his gaze.

Then who is the father then?

The courtroom doors flew open before I could even answer.

The entire room turned towards the entrance.

A man in his eighties stood with one hand around a cane. He looked to be around 80, his navy suit was pressed with care and his once thick white hair had been reduced to a thin crown. He moved slowly, but his eyes were clear.

Claire's face is drained of all color.

David sprang from his chair.

It's not possible...

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I spent 18 years thinking that the woman I loved most had abandoned my baby at the very moment he needed his mother.Ever...
15/09/2026

I spent 18 years thinking that the woman I loved most had abandoned my baby at the very moment he needed his mother.

Every difficult year consolidated that belief. By the time my son was eighteen I thought I knew what kind of woman her mother had been.

It all began in a hospital.

Oliver, our newborn, was diagnosed with Down syndrome by a doctor who sat beside Emily's bed.

I looked at the child in my arms.

Dark hair. Round cheeks. Tiny fingers curling round mine.

He was so tiny that I was afraid to breathe near him.

All I could think of was: He's perfect.

Emily's face scared me when I looked at it.

She didn't watch Oliver.

She remained seated as the doctor described the tests, specialists and developmental support that our son may need.

Emily whispered to me:

I can't.

I pushed my chair back.

We'll know what to do. We don't have to know all the answers right now.

Her head slowly moved from side to side.

-- No, Daniel. I can't.

We both didn't expect this. Of course you're scared.

She stared at the window.

You're not listening to me.

She wouldn't let our son hold her for hours.

I fed and changed him, telling myself that the shock, exhaustion and childbirth had temporarily shut down her.

Then, in the middle of the night, I saw her next to Oliver's bassinet.

One hand hovered above him.

She stood motionless, almost touching her, her body tense, as if even this simple gesture required more than she had.

By morning, her face was no longer tender.

Could you look after him without me?

The question was absurd.

Why would I need to? We're his parents.

She cried out in tears.

Emily asked for a divorce 48 hours later.

She signed the papers a few days later, leaving Oliver in my care.

She packed only one suitcase.

Before she left she stood by his crib and looked at him.

I waited for her lift him.

She didn't.

She walked into the room, whispering something I couldn't understand, pressed her finger to her lips and walked out.

From that moment, anger was easier to handle than confusion.

I hated her during Oliver's medical appointments. I hated her whenever I was tired, scared, or low on money.

I hated her because he brought home Mother's Day crafts from school for someone who chose not to attend.

Oliver, who was six years old at the time, asked me the question I dreaded.

Where is my mother, please?

My chest tightened

I had believed for years that Emily had died because of his diagnosis but I refused to instill this belief inside him.

I said, "Families don't look the same." You and I are each other.

Even as a young child, he knew that I had answered the question differently.

The years pass anyway.

Oliver learned how to tie his shoes. He also delivered his first sentences in a clear voice, began school, forgot his line during a play at school and improvised a funny thing that got the audience laughing.

Our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Carter, was with us for almost everything.

She had appeared the morning after Emily's disappearance with a pot soup and never stopped helping.

Oliver was a family member by the time she turned eighteen.

Yesterday evening, Oliver wore a paper crown and we sat at a table with ten chocolate cakes, eighteen candlesticks, and eighteen candles.

He reached into his pocket.

He put an old yellow envelope in front me.

Yesterday, Grandma Carter sent me this. She said that we must open it today.

I glanced at Mrs. Carter.

She was terrified.

Her teacup rattled on its saucer.

I opened the envelope and saw that the date was on it.

It was written 18 years earlier.

Then I recognized it.

My wife's.

What is this, Mrs. Carter?

Tears ran down her face.

Daniel, you didn't know something. Emily didn't leave because she no longer loved you.

Want to know what she hid for 18 years? Write "YES!" in the comments to find out what happened next

14/09/2026

The officers mistook a woman's calmness as weakness when they saw her alone on a road. They expected to make a simple traffic stop, have a scared driver and no one around to question their actions.

Claire was driving home at a speed that was well below the posted speed limit. She had not crossed any lines, ignored any signs, or committed a traffic violation.

The patrol car's blue and red lights appeared behind her.

Claire glanced at the speedometer once, activated her turn signal, and guided the vehicle onto the shoulder. She put the car in park, shut off the engine, lowered her window, and waited.

The first officer walked towards her. His partner remained several yards away from their vehicle.

Licence and registration

The request came without a greeting, or an explanation. Claire handed the documents over.

Officer, you are right.

The officer examined the license and registration before returning his attention to Claire.

Is there a real problem?

Stay in the car.

He walked around the back. Claire watched in the side mirror while he inspected the plate, walked the vehicle, looked through all the windows, and checked the tires. He did not act as if he was making a normal traffic stop. He seemed determined to find out why.

After several minutes he returned without returning her papers.

Could you please tell me why I've been stopped?

-- Routine check.

Claire kept her voice steady.

What is a routine check?

His expression became more tense.

Are you in a rush?

I'm just asking the reason.

The second officer approached.

What's the problem here?

First officer: She is always asking questions.

Claire turned to him.

I want to know why I was stopped.

The officer leaning through the open window.

You need to calm yourself down.

I'm completely calm.

This answer seemed to make him even angrier.

Please provide me with your names and badge numbers.

The officers exchanged a quick look.

-- Why?

I have a right to know the identity of those who have stopped me.

The first officer's jaw became hardened.

You're making it more difficult than it needs to be.

I have given you everything you asked. I just want to know why I'm being held.

The second officer approached the car.

Step out of your vehicle.

-- Why?

Get out of the vehicle.

-- Am I under arrest?

Step out.

Claire slowly moved her hand towards the center console.

The first officer became stiff.

What are you aiming for?

My phone

Keep your hands visible.

I'm going record what happens.

The balance of the match shifted at that moment.

The officer grabbed and ripped the door open.

-- Out. Now.

Claire raised her hands.

You don't have to grab me. I'll be able to get out by myself.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the driver's side. She fell as he pulled her out.

What are you doing right now?

Stop resisting!

I don't resist.

The second officer grabbed the other arm. Together, they drove Claire against the side of her car and turned her around. Her face was close to hitting the roof which was still warm from the afternoon sun.

She did not fight. No kick. No screaming. No pulling away.

One officer twisted his arm behind his back.

I told you to stop resisting.

I'm completely still.

The first cuff was locked around her wrist. Moments later, the second cuff snapped shut.

Click.

The men relaxed, as if their handcuffs were the final solution. One of them gave her a smug smile.

-- See? It would have been easier if you'd cooperated right from the start.

Claire shook her head a little.

I was cooperating.

You argued with me the whole time.

-- I asked questions.

The second officer laughed.

It's the same thing.

Claire's expression changed. It wasn't panic or rage. It was the stunned disbelief that someone felt as they watched an avoidable mistake get worse.

Are you sure you want to continue?

Is this a threat?

-- No.

She remained silent for a few moments.

-- It's advice.

The first officer dismissed the woman with an eye-roll.

You are always the type of person who thinks you know the law.

Claire did not argue. She said that there was something in her jacket's inside pocket.

What is it? The officer asked.

A small leather case

Is there anything in there that we should know?

I think it's time to get rid of that.

Their amusement returned. One officer reached inside his jacket and took out a small dark leather case.

What is this?

-- Open it.

He lifted the flap.

His face was awash with confidence.

He stared at the ground for several seconds. His partner noticed and moved closer.

What is it?

The first officer didn't answer.

What is it? The other man repeated.

The second officer opened the case wider.

Then he too froze.

In the inside was an official badge. A government identification card with Claire's photo and full name was next to it.

The words that were printed below her picture were clear:

INTERNAL AFFAIRS

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Claire was expecting a difficult divorce. What she didn't expect was that her estranged spouse would arrive at the famil...
14/09/2026

Claire was expecting a difficult divorce. What she didn't expect was that her estranged spouse would arrive at the family country house with a new partner, and act as if the only question was how politely Claire was going to hand over the property.

Daniel left her shortly after Christmas, when Emily had just turned 18 years old.

He announced the news without anger. His voice was so composed, Claire felt like she was listening to a speech that he had practiced for years.

I stayed for Emily, Claire. She needed both parents. I gave up many years of my own life to ensure that she could grow up with a normal family. Now she's 18 years old. My duty is done. I'm allowed also to want happiness.

Claire remembered staring silently at him.

Twenty years of marriage reduced to a story where Daniel was the martyr.

He forgot that Claire kept them afloat when he was unemployed. He forgot about the debts and the responsibilities that she carried. He also forgot about the affairs she chose not to make public.

In his memory he suffered.

She was just there.

Daniel delayed the divorce even after he left. There was always a reason: work, holidays or bureaucracy.

Six months had vanished by the summer.

Claire spent as much as she could at the country home that belonged to her father and mother. The house's familiar rooms and peaceful yard gave Claire a sense that she was in a stable situation.

One afternoon, an unexpected car appeared.

Daniel stepped outside.

A younger woman followed him.

Lauren was about 15 years younger than Daniel. She was elegant, but not flashy, and confident. She made herself comfortable right away. Her gaze swept the property with unsettling accuracy, first the house, then porch, then garden and flowerbeds.

Claire noticed everything.

So did Lauren.

She said, "I'm glad that we're finally having a conversation." Daniel and I agree that leaving unresolved issues for so long can be unhealthy. Everyone needs closure.

Daniel stood next to her, looking noticeably more fit and better dressed.

Lauren and I will marry. It's time we made our divorce official and settled all the property. If we can be reasonable, there's no need for lawyers or fighting.

Claire crossed her arms in a loose manner.

All right. What is your reasonable solution?

Lauren's response was far too quick to be spontaneous.

This house is huge for just one person. Two floors, large yard, constant maintenance, repairs, and bills. You've already raised a daughter. Why should you be burdened with a property that is so demanding in the future?

Her voice softened even more.

Daniel and I came up with a plan that protects all parties. You keep the apartment in the city. Daniel assumes full responsibility for this house. Your life does not have to change.

Daniel added:

Claire, it's a fair trade. You keep your house in the city and I take over this place.

Claire was puzzled for a moment by the fact that they could hear each other.

They were standing in her home and offered to take her house away. They described the plan as a kindness.

She almost laughed.

She spoke very quietly instead.

It's obvious that you and your partner have spent a great deal of time planning. It's unfortunate Daniel forgot to mention one very important fact.

Lauren's confident face shifted.

What is the truth?

Claire looked at her former husband in all meaningful ways.

My parents gave me this property directly. It was a legal gift in my name only. This house was not joint marital property.

Daniel froze.

Lauren stared at him as her lips parted when his face suddenly turned pale.

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13/09/2026

The worst discovery was not the fact that Michael had betrayed my trust. It was discovering that I had stood beside a man for almost 20 years who had never really chosen me.

I am Claire. At forty-two I finally saw the life I had refused to see. Michael was only my husband by name. I spent years trying in every way to bring him back.

Michael seemed confident of his power when he first appeared in my world. He was handsome, captivating and knew how to talk so that women felt above everyone.

In my youth, I mistakenly believed that this magic was destiny. Later, I realized that someone who can ignite a spectacular fire at the start may not be able to tend the quiet flame of a family.

Michael and I were together for almost twenty years. Over time, he began to see me differently. I went from the woman he dreamed of to a familiar face whose devotion he took for granted.

When I tried to get him to face a difficult topic, he always used the same excuse:

You know me better than anyone else, Claire

I knew him. I knew when a liar was hiding behind his smiling. I could smell the scent of a woman else on his clothes. I watched as his phone became a locked room that I was not allowed to enter.

My friends are less blind than me

Why do you tolerate it, Claire? You are beautiful, strong and know your own mind.

I protected him by a tired smile.

All marriages have problems.

Michael became increasingly certain that I wouldn't leave.

He was attracted to women. He enjoyed the attention of women, their flirtatious glances, and the comfort that came with being wanted. He could walk in the door after midnight, and pretend that his absence was not unusual.

What is it? I was just spending time with my friends.

His eyes contradicted his words.

One evening I threw away all excuses and asked:

Michael, tell me the truth... Are you happy?

He acted as if I had asked him something unreasonable.

Not again, Claire. We're fine.

The phrase hung over the room as a warning.

"We're fine", can be used as a way to hide from the reality of their lives.

One night I heard Michael talking on the balcony. His voice was low and amusing, almost tender.

The only thing I can say is that I remember you. But, life has changed so much since then.

I stopped before he saw me.

I recognized that voice. It wasn't meant for a friend. Someone from his past reached him and he suddenly sounded younger that the man who lived next door.

When he returned inside, I asked:

Who was that?

He did not apologize or explain anything.

Why is it important to you?

This question hurt me more than a confession. Another woman was just a part of the problem. Michael no longer cared if his choices hurt me.

After that, I sat at the kitchen counter alone. The tea had not cooled, and my shirt that I had ironed the morning before was beside me.

I saw my reflection in the darkened glass and whispered to myself:

How long will you continue to disappear into someone else's happiness, Claire?

I didn't know that the solution would begin with a choice: I would no longer defend Michael from the consequences his own behavior.

I watched him without any suspicion games or dramatic confrontations. During the day he could still mimic an ordinary husband by asking me what we would like to eat, and kissing me sometimes before work. Every evening, however, he needed an audience to show off his charm.

He came home one night just before midnight, and found me sitting quietly.

Why are you awake?

I was waiting for you.

He turned his back and removed his coat.

Please don't start, Claire.

I looked at him, and I realized that anger wasn't the strongest emotion in me anymore. I was tired of asking for every little proof that I mattered.

Michael, have you ever genuinely feared losing me?

He stopped.

The pause was short, but it exposed him.

What kind of question would that be?

A question from the woman you've spent nearly twenty years with.

His laughter was careless and short.

You're making a big deal out of nothing once again.

A week later, I was organizing my closet when a box of old photographs fell from the shelf. A white envelope was found under the pictures. It did not have a name or an address.

I almost put it away.

I didn't want to open it. Some truths find their way into our hands, when we are out of places to hide.

The pages were written by a female.

"Michael I still think of you." Why did you choose this woman when you told me that you would never forget me?

As I read the sentence again, my hands shook.

"Choose her..."

It was a love letter from Michael's first love, the woman I had always felt but never dared to ask about.

I left the envelope on my table.

Michael's face was completely numb when he saw it the next evening.

Where did you find it?

He did not ask the contents of the letter. He didn't ask who wrote it. He only wanted to know how it reached me.

Who is she, Michael Michael?

Silence filled the room.

This is the last time that I will ask you. Who is this woman?

He sank down into a chair and dragged both hands across his face.

--Claire, you don't understand...

I looked at him, and the sadness that had replaced all arguments was there.

--No, Michael. You are the one that has spent all these years refusing me to understand.

Then he revealed the truth that he had buried. He had believed that a woman was his true love before our wedding. She had left him for another man.

Michael had not married because he finally stopped loving her.

He married me because he feared being alone.

If you're interested in knowing what happened next, please comment "yes" and I will share the continuation.

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