My Pretty Sweetheart (Arianna)

He stiffened his body, and I pushed him away. I stretched my clothes over myself with a poker face in an attempt to cover what I could.

"Are you serious?" He asked. His dark, oppressive gaze fell on me.

I pursed my lips and nodded. I looked into his dark eyes and replied, "Both of us should calm down. Maybe we've always been wrong for each other. We might be a good match in Grandpa's eyes, but not in the way that we thought we would be. Maybe my feelings for you were not love, but admiration. And for you, it might just be accumulated regret over leaving me behind for so long."

There was no love between the two of us. What we had were fragmented feelings that we desperately tried to piece together.

He opened his mouth to speak, and the grimness on his face was like a dark cloud that had been building up. "Not love!"

These words sounded as if he had screamed it for himself to hear. In the days that followed, I kept thinking about how there were so many people in the world. How many couples stayed together out of a sense of responsibility, and how did those couples who supposedly loved each other spend the rest of their lives?

Love faded with beauty. Perhaps, there was no love in this world at all. It was nothing but a gimmick to comfort oneself.

"Tell me, what is love? What is your so-called love? With every word you speak, you bring up divorce, like it's something casual. Do you think I deserve to be ruined by you after

my legs felt weak beneath me. I slipped down the cold wall and fell to the ground with my arms around my legs. "The one you love, spoil and protect is lying in the hospital." "What?" he scoffed. "You're hell-bent on holding on to the past, aren't you? Do you want me to kill Andrea? Is that what it means

my toes, and raised my head. "Are you only

you holding on to a dead person? You even disregarded your life to chase after a lookalike

get over our own hurdles, then let's get a divorce. I don't want

don't have any children and since we think this is a mistake, then let's divorce. It's still

on the table as he raged on. "What do you mean 'not too late'? You're the only one who can't let go. What else can't I give

like I couldn't get out of this pit no matter how

to have reached its limit. I couldn't differentiate which sentence was said out of spite or the

up by supporting myself against the wall. I added lightly, "I'll move

my mouth and stayed there. His voice was

my chest. It hurt so much that I couldn't

He kissed me with suppressed emotions. "After we get a divorce, will we