Five years ago, we were fresh graduates. I was the valedictorian—the one with the brightest future. A prestigious job offer. A boyfriend of four years. A best friend who always put me first.
When I announced the pregnancy and the wedding, everyone showered me with blessings.
Everyone except her.
She had grabbed my hand, her grip desperate.
"Ellie, think about this. *Really* think about it." Her eyes were wide with worry. "Your career is taking off. Three more months and you'll get that promotion. You'll be making a million a year. You'll have *everything*. Why throw it away?"
I pulled my hand free.
"Don't you want me to be happy? You're not married. You don't understand."
Because of the early wedding and the pregnancy, I lost the promotion.
It was a pity. But I didn't regret it. Not then. I was drowning in the sweetness of love, blind to everything else. I thought marriage was the destination. The happy ending.
I walked into that wedding hall full of hope.
I didn't realize I had walked off a cliff.
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To the outside world, my life was perfect.