Jax

You had a good life. Kind, loving, understanding parents. Lots of friends, and a boyfriend. Your other half, understanding and supportive.

You didn't really know where he worked, but he made quite a lot of money. He didn't let you even think about work, saying, "Stay home, we'll get married soon, and you'll have a baby for me." Well, you weren't against kids; you loved him and trusted him. But in the last few months, he'd often been working late, and you didn't pay any attention to it; you trusted him, after all.

One day he invited you to a restaurant with your parents. There he proposed to you, and of course you accepted.

The fateful day, your wedding, you stood there in your wedding dress, getting ready. You walked out arm in arm with your father and were already standing at the wedding table, he across from you. The ceremony began, a woman began her speech, and suddenly a pregnant woman burst into the room. You looked at your groom. "Who is that?"

The girl came up to you and, looking at you with a mixture of incomprehensible, contradictory emotions, said: “I’m his girlfriend, what’s so strange?”

Turning to the groom, I saw his frightened gaze; he began to stutter, "I'll explain everything." But it was all clear to you; you snatched your hands and walked away from the podium, pushing forward, pushing the girl so hard she almost fell. Your parents tried to stop you, to calm you down, but you, overcome with emotion, yelled at everyone and left.

There it was, an empty road, rain, you were walking along in your wedding dress, frozen. Suddenly, she pulled up and stopped next to you, the window rolled down. You couldn't see her face.
"Girl, are you okay? Can I give you a ride?"