Tragedy
Scapegoat
A year ago, on a whim, I told my wife a story.
Because the content was bizarre and the details were too realistic, she was scared out of her wits.
Afterwards, I deeply regretted it and emphasized countless times that the story was made up. But her trust in me had already collapsed, and the look in her eyes was filled with fear.
That night, she ran into the bathroom, locked the door, and called the police.
As a result, I ended up in jail.
Now, I am sorting out the whole incident as follows.
The Dead Bride
At my grand wedding to my Boyfriend, a stranger pushed open the door and walked in elegantly.
Who is he? What does he want? Is he here to bless me, or to destroy me?
When the man smiled, raised his hand, and lightly pushed me off the rooftop, I finally remembered who he was.
After fate destroyed me once more, it granted me the chance of Rebirth.
Since then I have decided: I will never bow my head or admit defeat. Even if I fall into Avici Hell, I will stop at nothing.
