My Fiancée's Lies

My fiancée, Andrea Twitty, came to me with a pregnancy test stick, which showed she was pregnant. She wanted me to take the blame for her childhood sweetheart, Alan Farmer.

She said she would marry me when I was released from prison.

I believed her.

When I was released from prison, I found them living together in my wedding place with her, wearing couple slippers and couple pajamas.

And my mom killed herself.

The pregnancy test was fake.

...

——

"I do."

It was a vow at the wedding.

But Andrea used it as a bargaining chip.

She asked me to take the blame for Alan.

Andrea knew that I didn't wanna.

She nestled in my arms, took out the pregnancy test stick, and cried.

"Alan, Damian is just about to graduate from college. If he goes to jail, his life will be ruined. Not to mention that his cousins have always disliked him. He'll be toast if he gets locked behind bars."

But today the company's top management informed me that I had entered the probation process to be a company's partner, which would last for six months. If everything went well, I'd be promoted to a holding partner.

It was a great affirmation of my efforts over the years.

It meant that I would no longer be just a senior employee.

What should I do?

I had loved Andrea for seven years.

I had dreamed of marrying her. Besides, she said she was carrying my baby.

In these years, besides work, she occupied my whole life. I had long thought of her as my family.

Seeing that I was hesitating, Andrea sighed, "I won't force you to do anything. If you really don't wanna do this, then I'll do this for him..."

I took a deep breath and said, "OK. I'll do it. For you.

"Take care and give birth to the baby. I'll marry after I'm out."

Andrea buried her head in my chest and after a while, she said, "OK."

…

The prison gate opened, and under the sunlight, I was enveloped by freedom.

Andrea leaned against a car in a red windbreaker, talking to someone on the phone. Her voice was gentle, and her smile was bright.

"You can choose the cake. OK... Yeah, you can call the shots... Buy whatever you want..."

Seeing me, she hurriedly hung up the phone and said, "Alan, let's go home."

I couldn't help but take a step forward and hug her in my arms. In the next second, I was surrounded by her familiar fragrance.

She was the love of my life, and she intoxicated me as always.

Andrea gently hugged me and patted the fallen leaves on my shoulders.

"Happy birthday, Alan."

I kissed her forehead, got into the car, and fastened my seat belt.

"Andrea, where's our baby and my mom?"

Our baby should be two years old and could say the word "Daddy".

It had been a long time since my mom last came to see me. The last time I saw her was half a year ago.

Andrea looked a bit embarrassed. "Alan, there's something I need to tell you."

My heart suddenly skipped a beat, though I had a feeling. My mom never mentioned the baby when she came to visit me in the past two years, and when I asked about the baby, she always changed the subject.

Andrea fell silent for a moment. "Alan, the baby is gone. It's all my fault..."

"What happened?" I asked anxiously.

"No longer after you were in jail, Damian asked me to go to the countryside with him. I was hit by a cart that got lost control, and I lost the baby. Alan, it was just an accident. We'll have another baby."

It took me a while to come back to my senses. "Where is my mom?"

"She's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean? Gone where? We don't have any other relatives..."

"She's dead!" Andrea quickly pulled over.

"What happened? What's going on?"

Andrea said nothing, and the car fell into silence. I slumped back into my seat.

I tasted rust on my lips, and the pain in my heart was killing me. I was overwhelmed by great sadness.

My baby was gone, and so was my mom, the last family I had.

I calmed down a bit. Seeing that, Andrea restarted the car and took me back to our home.

It was our wedding place.

As soon as she opened the door, a young man ran out of the kitchen.

He was wearing an apron.

"Andrea, Alan, you're back! Change into slippers. Alan, I bought them for you today."

I watched as Andrea skillfully put on a pair of couple slippers that were the same style as Damian's.

I was momentarily stunned.

Have they been living together these years while I was away? It's my wedding place with Andrea!

I went to jail for Damian's sake, and now he was living in my wedding place with my fiancée. They wore couple slippers while they stood in front of me.

I stood in situ motionlessly, pulling a long face.

The atmosphere was a bit tense.

"Go upstairs and take a shower. You can change your shoes later." Andrea glanced at me, looking a bit uneasy, and then pulled me upstairs.

"Andrea, I think I'd better go. Alan is still mad at me. Out of sight, out of mind."

Immediately, there was disappointment and grievance in Damian's eyes.

Andrea pushed me while coaxing him.

"Don't think too much. I forgot to tell Alan that you're here to celebrate his birthday. He was just too surprised."

Andrea dragged me upstairs and pushed me into the bathroom.

I sighed. Forget it. I shouldn't think this much the second I came back. Damian has always been like this over the years, hasn't he?

He's probably just here to celebrate my birthday and wanted to give me a last-minute surprise.

I finished showering with low spirits and saw a set of couple pajamas on the balcony. My heart warmed up. Seemed Andrea cared about me after all.

I changed into pajamas and went downstairs, and the two people looked at me at the same time.

Andrea froze and then quickly pulled me into the room.

She found another set of pajamas from the wardrobe and asked me to change into them.

"No one else lives here. The couple pajamas aren't for me?" I asked in confusion.

"No. They're Damian's. I went shopping for pajamas back then, and I only had to pay half the price for the second set. I barely wore them, so I forgot to tell you. Here. I've got you a new set. Wear these."

Seemed that they had indeed been living together for the past two years. I tried to calm myself down and warned myself not to act impulsively. Things might not be as I imagined.

But before leaving, I glanced at that set of women's pajamas. The collar was frayed, yet Andrea actually told me that she had never worn them.

My heart sank gradually...

When I came downstairs, I was overwhelmed by a pungent smell. Then I saw a durian cake on the dining table.

I held back my nausea and ran to the bathroom to vomit.

I hated durian.

My dad ran long distances when I was a kid. He was carrying a load of durian one day, and he got into an accident. By the time we got there, I saw my dad's body mixed with the broken durian. I passed out on the spot.

I had a high fever for three days before waking up.

Since then, whenever I saw or smelt durian, I couldn't help but feel nauseous.

Damian knew, but he still asked me deliberately.

"Alan, don't you like the surprise I had for you?"

I ignored him and turned to look at Andrea. "We haven't seen each other for three years. When have I ever had durian cake on my birthday?"

Before Andrea could speak, Damian quickly protected her behind him with a pitiful look.

"Alan, don't be mean to her. I ordered the cake."

I remembered that when I walked out of prison, Andrea was talking on the phone. She said to the person on the other end of the line to pick the cake.

She didn't remember my preferences, whereas he intentionally tried to mess with me.

Good for her. Good for him!

"I'm sorry, Alan, it's my fault. I forgot to tell him. He didn't mean to. Well, let's skip the cake and have dinner!" Andrea walked over and hugged my waist, apologizing coquettishly.

I didn't wanna make a fuss, so I sat down while suppressing my anger for the time being.

When the dishes were brought to the table, I looked at the coriander on all the dishes, feeling bitter.

In the first few years when I was with Andrea, every time we went out and had a meal, she would always tell the kitchen staff to skip the coriander. Once, the kitchen staff forgot to, and when she saw the coriander, she picked it out for me. Yet today, she didn't even notice there was coriander on the dishes.

She kept putting food on my plate, and I forced myself to eat it.

She forgot, perhaps.

Am I being too sensitive about everything? Or has it always been like this?