The only time Allan ever protected me was when we were kidnapped as kids. I'd covered his escape and gotten my leg broken for it, then locked in a dark room. After I was rescued, he'd stayed by my bedside day and night, never even changing out of his clothes.
In the seven years we'd been together since, he never took care of me again.
When I got sick, he went out drinking with friends.
When I was in a car accident, he called to yell at me for being brainless.
Even last year, when I had my heart transplant — a surgery with only a ten percent success rate — I was terrified I'd die without seeing him one last time. I begged him to be there with me.
Allan skipped it to throw a birthday party for his ex.
Only after hearing Allan's denial did Pauline let him hold her hand again.
The viewers in the livestream had no interest in watching the two of them being lovey-dovey. Within minutes, more than half of them had left.
A spark lit behind Pauline's eyes. She latched onto Allan's arm, swinging it playfully.
"I heard you and your girlfriend are about to get engaged. Why don't you take me to see the place you two picked out?"
I threw my arms out in front of Allan, blocking his path.