His First Love Killed My Unborn - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
You are reading His First Love Killed My Unborn, Chapter 11: Chapter 11. Read more chapters of His First Love Killed My Unborn.
The voice on the other end of the phone quivered with tears.
Ta.
I already had a sinking feeling about what was coming. Shaking my head, I said, "Auntie, I'm sorry, but I can't do what he's asking. Tell him I'm okay now—he doesn't need to worry about me."
After hanging up, my mind drifted back to who I'd been two years ago—like some lost stray, desperate and alone. It felt like remembering someone else's life.
Three days later, Ian's high school group chat blew up.
"Did you hear? Ian's gone!"
"What? When did that happen?"
"Last night. Died at home… AIDS. Just like Paula."
"I heard he was still calling his ex-wife's name before the end."
"Damn. Karma's a bitch, huh? Hey, squad leader, we paying our respects?"
"Can't. My mom's about to pop—gotta be there."
"Same. Mother-in-law's in labor…"
I stared at the flood of pathetic excuses, bitterness and pity twisting inside me.
These were the friends Ian had called brothers—the people he'd trusted most. And not a single one could be bothered to say goodbye.
It just goes to show—when everything falls apart, the only ones who really matter are family. Parents. A spouse. Kids.
Too bad Ian never figured that out.
On the day of his funeral, I still brought a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and slipped quietly into the cemetery.
His parents—gray-haired, broken—wailed in front of his gravestone. A light rain began to fall as I stood there, watching.
Once the crowd thinned, I stepped forward.
The photo on the tombstone showed his smile—bright, warm, like sunshine. Back when he was still that handsome boy on the basketball court.
I remembered our first meeting—how he'd scrambled for my number, only to fumble my name when he finally called.
At graduation, he covered the court in flowers and candles, dropped to one knee, and proposed while our friends cheered.
At eighteen, I'd walked down the aisle in a white dress, heart full of hope, believing love would last forever.
But time changes people. The man who once treasured me became someone else. And so did I—the girl who thought love could conquer anything.
I laid the chrysanthemums at the base of his grave, studying his photo before whispering,
"Ian… I don't hate you anymore. I don't love you anymore. Goodbye."
The wind gusted, driving the rain sideways. I turned and walked away without looking back.
The past was smoke now—love and hate carried off by the wind.
From here on out? I'd live for myself. Free. Happy.
This time, I'd make it count.
Ta.
I already had a sinking feeling about what was coming. Shaking my head, I said, "Auntie, I'm sorry, but I can't do what he's asking. Tell him I'm okay now—he doesn't need to worry about me."
After hanging up, my mind drifted back to who I'd been two years ago—like some lost stray, desperate and alone. It felt like remembering someone else's life.
Three days later, Ian's high school group chat blew up.
"Did you hear? Ian's gone!"
"What? When did that happen?"
"Last night. Died at home… AIDS. Just like Paula."
"I heard he was still calling his ex-wife's name before the end."
"Damn. Karma's a bitch, huh? Hey, squad leader, we paying our respects?"
"Can't. My mom's about to pop—gotta be there."
"Same. Mother-in-law's in labor…"
I stared at the flood of pathetic excuses, bitterness and pity twisting inside me.
These were the friends Ian had called brothers—the people he'd trusted most. And not a single one could be bothered to say goodbye.
It just goes to show—when everything falls apart, the only ones who really matter are family. Parents. A spouse. Kids.
Too bad Ian never figured that out.
On the day of his funeral, I still brought a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and slipped quietly into the cemetery.
His parents—gray-haired, broken—wailed in front of his gravestone. A light rain began to fall as I stood there, watching.
Once the crowd thinned, I stepped forward.
The photo on the tombstone showed his smile—bright, warm, like sunshine. Back when he was still that handsome boy on the basketball court.
I remembered our first meeting—how he'd scrambled for my number, only to fumble my name when he finally called.
At graduation, he covered the court in flowers and candles, dropped to one knee, and proposed while our friends cheered.
At eighteen, I'd walked down the aisle in a white dress, heart full of hope, believing love would last forever.
But time changes people. The man who once treasured me became someone else. And so did I—the girl who thought love could conquer anything.
I laid the chrysanthemums at the base of his grave, studying his photo before whispering,
"Ian… I don't hate you anymore. I don't love you anymore. Goodbye."
The wind gusted, driving the rain sideways. I turned and walked away without looking back.
The past was smoke now—love and hate carried off by the wind.
From here on out? I'd live for myself. Free. Happy.
This time, I'd make it count.
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