Because I had lived through the same thing.
But I stopped, because the profile photo was painfully familiar.
It was the first picture of Felicity Miller and William Shaw together, taken by me on William’s birthday.
I stared at that comment for a long time.
Most replies were condemning her, calling her shameless for being a homewrecker.
But a small group agreed with her, saying she simply chose what benefited her most.
"That’s what a true heroine does—securing someone promising early to move up in life; wanting a better future isn’t wrong."
"Even without that, they might not have lasted. I don’t think she did anything wrong."
Just then, I was standing by the roadside when the wind suddenly rose. I stumbled, and my dinner rolled into a muddy puddle.
I bent down and tossed the ruined sandwich into a trash bin.
Actually, I am the ex-girlfriend mentioned in that comment.
Later, William and I broke up. I failed the university exam, and even my beloved mother had an accident.
Back then, I thought of dying more than once. Only in recent years did my life slowly return to normal.