After all, Andrew had whispered to me countless times, his voice so gentle: "Elena, what I love is who you are inside. It has nothing to do with your face."
"Even if you become ugly someday, become old—my love for you won't change."
But the truth was, I only became ugly.
And he revealed his true face.
Women are always softhearted. Even after hearing something so vile, I still gave him a chance. I told myself he was just in a bad mood, just irritated for the moment.
Until the company annual party, when Andrew and his secretary Sophie disappeared at the same time.
When I burst into that hotel room to catch them, I found them with their clothes in disarray.
I went crazy, hurling a wine glass at them.
Andrew's first instinct was to shield Sophie, pulling her behind him. Then he turned to me, his face twisted with disgust.
"Elena, are you done making a scene?"
"Staring at that face of yours every day, I feel like throwing up even when I haven't eaten."
"Look at yourself right now—like a shrew. What man would want that?"
His words cut like knives, stabbing straight into my heart.
The love I thought would last a lifetime didn't even survive five short years.