The day my overseas assignment ended, I secretly flew thirteen hours back home without telling Adrian.
A few days earlier, we had just had another argument.
Adrian wanted me to stay abroad and continue developing my career, but I insisted on returning home to marry him.
Before I boarded the plane, he was still trying to persuade me over the phone.
“Elena, don’t give up your future for me. As long as we love each other, marriage doesn’t really matter.”
After hearing that, my resolve only hardened.
The moment I landed, I rushed straight to a jewelry store to buy a diamond ring, then called my best friend to tell her about my plan to propose.
On the other end of the phone, a baby was crying nonstop. She tried to calm the child, her voice irritated and weary.
“Elena, get a grip! Five years of long distance and he still hasn’t married you. Doesn’t that tell you he never planned to?”
“Marriage is the graveyard of love. I’m already exhausted raising a baby. I regret it every day.”
I was about to argue back when I suddenly saw her walking out of a maternity store with the baby in her arms.
“My husband’s here to pick me up. Talk later.”
She hung up in a hurry and waved toward the road ahead.
A black Mercedes pulled up.
The door opened. A man stepped out, gently taking the baby from her arms and patting the child with practiced familiarity.
Sunlight fell across the side of his face.
It made my eyes sting.
My best friend had been secretly married for two years.
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