He Ruined the Girl Who Saved Him

On Valentine's Day, I happened to run into a live street interview for a popular online reality show.

The topic of the day was romance stories, and my random prompt was First Love.

After a brief pause, I regained my composure and looked at the camera, my expression entirely calm.

I've almost forgotten him, I said. "After all, the grass on his grave is probably six feet high by now."

The very next second, the massive screen next to the camera feed cut to the celebrity guests sitting in the observation studio.

Staring back at me was the very man I had just so warmly blessed with a premature death. He was my ex-husband, and we had been divorced for seven years.

He didn't seem to care about the curse I had just uttered. He simply stared at the screen, his eyes rimmed with red.

"Anna," he whispered, his voice trembling. "It's been a long time."

I nodded politely, showing none of the embarrassment one might expect after getting caught trash-talking someone behind their back. Given how disastrously our marriage had ended, my comment was actually quite mild.

The live chat on the screen began to scroll at lightning speed.

What's going on? Christopher, the superstar, knows this random girl?

Oh, come on, look at the way he called her name. Theres definitely history there, and hes clearly not over her.

Can we please block these trolls? Christopher and Hailey are the industry's ultimate power couple. Who is this nobody trying to clout-chase?

Seeing the words "power couple" made me smile bitterly. Maybe they really were a match made in heaven. Because of that, Christopher's love had belonged to me first, and for that, I had to be punished.

My career, my love, my family, even half of my own life, I had lost almost everything to pay for that love.

Christopher quickly realized he had lost his composure. He cleared his throat and offered a hurried explanation to the hosts. "We were high school classmates."

The host looked apologetic, turning to me. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know your first love had..."

My initial answer had been a lie to get out of the interview, but Christophers sudden appearance made me freeze. I didn't want to run anymore.

"It's fine," I comforted the host, keeping my voice steady. "Go ahead and ask your next question."

Encouraged by my calm gaze, the host took a deep breath. "How did you and your first love meet?"

Christopher stiffened. His shoulders tensed, and he sat up straight, his eyes locked onto me through the monitor. He always pursed his lips like that when he was nervous. After all these years, some habits never changed.

Our first meeting was anything but romantic.

I had just come home from high school. The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I caught a boy shoving the leftover dinner rolls my grandmother had made for me into his mouth.

He didn't even try to run. He just stood there against the wall, chin held high like a soldier facing execution.

"Guess it's my bad luck getting caught," he muttered. "Scream, hit me, do whatever you want."

I stared at him for a few seconds. Then, I reached into my bag and pressed my entire week's lunch money into his dirty palm.

"Don't steal food anymore," I said softly. "It's bad for you."

His face flushed a deep crimson, the heat spreading all the way to his ears. "I owe you one," he stammered, gripping the crumpled bills. "I'll pay you back. I promise."

Then, he turned and fled.

The "later" Christopher promised came much faster than I expected.

A few weeks later, some older boys at school cornered me and snatched my hearing aid. My parents had died in a car crash years ago, and the accident had left me completely deaf in my left ear.

The ringleader dragged me by my hair, sneering insults like "freak" and "deaf girl" into my good ear.

That was when Christopher appeared out of nowhere. He fought them like a feral dog, throwing himself into the fray with no regard for his own safety. The older boys had metal pipes, but he had nothing but his bare fists, and he spent half the fight shielding me from their blows.

Later, as I tended to his wounds, the sight of his torn skin made me burst into tears. But he just smiled, casual as could be, looking at me with absolute warmth.

"You know, your tears hitting my skin... it actually hurts more than their pipes," he teased.

I tried to choke back my sobs, wiping my eyes. "You saved me. We're even now. Just promise me you won't fight anymore."

For someone who fought so brutally, the hand he used to wipe away my tears was incredibly gentle.

"That's not up to you to decide," he whispered. "We've got a long time ahead of us. I'm going to take my sweet time paying you back."

The live chat went wild.

Oh my god, childhood sweethearts are the best trope ever!

How could such a sweet guy pass away so young?

If I were her, I'd never be able to love anyone else for the rest of my life.

For the rest of my life.

I stared at the screen, momentarily lost in thought. We were so young back then, and the boy I met was so breathtakingly brilliant. Our textbooks never taught us about the impermanence of the world, or how easily a human heart could rot.

I had found love, and I truly believed it would last forever.

The host sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Love at first sight. He must have fallen for you right then and there."

Unlike the host's excitement, my response was entirely flat.

"Yes. And I slowly fell for him, too. Back then, he was the absolute protector of my universe." I smiled faintly. "But later, he hurt me worse than everyone else combined. If I count the years, I think I've spent much longer hating him than I ever spent loving him."

In the studio, Christopher's posture shattered. He flinched so violently that he knocked over the small table beside his chair.

Neither Christopher nor I had parents, so as we grew closer, my grandmother became his family, too.

His grades were terrible, but Grandma saw his talent for music. During our senior year of high school, she used her meager savings to sign him up for classical vocal training.

Christopher stared at the expensive receipt for a long time. Suddenly, he fell to his knees and bowed his head to the floor before Grandma.

"Grandma, I'll work harder than anyone," he swore, his voice thick with tears. "I won't let you down. And I won't let Anna down."

Christopher kept his word. He passed his auditions and got into a top-tier music conservatory. We moved to the same city for college, just as we had planned.

On our first day of university, the breeze was gentle and the sky was a perfect, clear blue. The future we had promised each other was finally within reach, and everything felt full of hope.

But life has a way of tearing down beautiful things.

The insurance payout from my parents' accident had already been drained by our tuition and living expenses. Grandma, who had worked herself to the bone to support us, suddenly collapsed.

Lying in her hospital bed, she wept silently. She wasn't crying because of the agonizing pain of her illness, but because the tuition money we had saved for the next semester had to be spent on her medical bills.

I didn't tell Christopher any of this.

He had started his musical training late, and the conservatory was packed with prodigies. He spent day and night practicing in the studios, barely having time to sleep, let alone worry about money.

So, I skipped every class I could. I ran myself ragged working multiple part-time jobs to pay for Grandma's treatments and our daily expenses.

Under the weight of it all, I was sleeping barely four hours a night, yet the tuition deadline was fast approaching, and my bank account was still nearly empty.

That was when an agency offered me a high-paying job as a waitress at an exclusive, private members-only lounge. They promised I could make enough money in just three days.

Despite the bad feeling in my gut, I looked at my bank balance and took the job.

I was assigned to a VIP room. The guests were heavily intoxicated, and as I bent down to clear the table, one of them slid his hand up my thigh.

Panicking, I reacted on instinct and slapped him across the face.

The guest flew into a rage and summoned the manager. The manager bowed, apologized profusely, and dragged me out into the hallway.

The moment the door closed, the manager slapped me back, twice as hard.

"What, a little touch is going to kill you?" he hissed. "You're supposed to be a college student, and you don't even know how the world works!"

The promised wages were gone. I sat in a twenty-four-hour convenience store all night, staring blankly at the streetlights.

When I finally turned my phone back on, a barrage of missed calls and messages flooded the screen. Most were from Christopher, but some were from classmates.

A dark dread settled in my chest. I tapped open a link sent by a classmate.

It was a post on our university's anonymous forum: Is the department sweetheart selling her body for quick cash?

Attached was a photo of me standing in the hallway outside the VIP lounge, my cheek bruised, being humiliated by the manager.

The comments below were ruthless.

No wonder she's always skipping class. I guess this is what shes actually doing.

Isnt she deaf in one ear? Rich guys really arent picky these days.

With a face like that, who cares? I bet she's got some great skills in bed.

Her boyfriend is so handsome, yet he's getting cheated on by a gold-digger. Sucks to be him.

The malice suffocated me.

Christopher called again, but I couldn't bring myself to answer. I didn't have the courage to face his questions, his suspicion, or his disappointment.

But he found me anyway.

He ran to the convenience store, threw his arms around me, and held me tightly against his chest. "I believe you," he whispered over and over.

He gently touched the faint red mark on my cheek, his eyes filled with pure anguish. "Does it hurt?"

The dam broke. All the exhaustion, humiliation, and terror I had bottled up over the past weeks poured out of me, and I sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder.

I told him everything.

That night, Christopher tracked down the lounge manager in a dark alley with no security cameras and beat him to a pulp. Then, he wrote a detailed post explaining the truth and uploaded it to the school forum.

But the post was deleted within five minutes.

An ant cannot bring down a mountain. There were powerful people involved, people we couldn't afford to anger.

So, Christopher posted a new thread. It contained only one sentence.

I knew her long before the whispers started.

He held my hand tightly. The poverty and violence of our youth had never managed to break his spirit, but in that moment, he cried. His warm tears fell onto my hand, burning straight through to my heart.

"Anna," he promised, his voice thick with emotion. "I will build a world for you where no one will ever dare to hurt you again."

By this point, the host's eyes were glistening with tears, and the live chat was overflowing with sympathy.

Oh my god, this is heartbreaking.

Please, let them have a happy ending. Why is fate so cruel to them?

"But you said you ended up hating him," the host said, her voice cracking slightly. "Was it because he left this world and abandoned you?"

I couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. I hadn't expected my casual curse about his grave to be taken so literally.

"No," I replied. The wounds that had once torn me apart had long since healed into numb scars. I looked directly into the camera. "He cheated on me."

Christopher's luck had turned around during our sophomore year when a talent scout discovered him. From then on, his career skyrocketed.

By the time he graduated, his agency pressured him to break up with me before signing a long-term contract. He refused, fighting the executives until they finally agreed to let me join his team as his personal manager.

The first major award he won was for Best Single. The song was called Anna, named after me.

There were no flowers, no diamond rings, and no family members to witness it. In a dusty, empty dressing room backstage, he held up his trophy and asked me to marry him.

"Anna, wait for me," he had pleaded. "Once I secure my place in this industry, I'll give you the grandest wedding. I want to show my wife off to the entire world."

Christopher did keep that promise. It was just that the wife beside him wasn't me.

By our fifth year in the industry, Christopher was an A-list star. We had parted ways with our old agency and established his own independent studio.

During our first round of auditions for new talent, a young girl had stood before Christopher, her eyes shining with admiration.

"Christopher, I've looked up to you for so long," she stammered, tears spilling over her lashes. "Ever since I first saw you on TV when I was a teenager, you've been my inspiration. When my family turned their backs on me, when I was bullied at school, your music kept me alive. Today, I want to perform your award-winning song, Anna."

Hearing her shaky, unpolished voice, I frowned. It wasn't because of her obvious infatuation with Christopher, but because using a sob story during a professional audition felt incredibly manipulative.

There were dozens of candidates who were far more talented and beautiful than her. In the end, she was rejected.

Yet, a month later, Christopher brought her right into my office.

"Anna, Hailey might not be the most talented girl out there, but she's definitely going to work the hardest."

Hailey stood there, looking at me with wide, innocent, and completely sincere eyes.

Seeing my hesitation, Christopher stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. His hand slid down to rest gently on my belly. "Looking at her just reminds me of how hard we had it when we were young. Let's help her out. Think of it as a good deed to bring blessings for our baby."

I was only a month pregnant at the time. My heart softened, and I agreed.

I took Hailey under my wing personally, giving her the best resources we had. With Christopher actively mentoring her, she quickly stood out among the rookies.

But then, I accidentally stumbled upon Hailey's private, burner account on social media.

The best birthday present ever!

He said this represents our very first meeting.

He actually gave it to me!

Attached was a photo of the trophy Christopher had used to propose to me.

My hands shook as I reached for the trophy that had sat on my office desk for years. When I picked it up, it felt incredibly light. It was a cheap, plastic replica.

That night, I threw the fake trophy and the screenshots of Hailey's posts onto the desk in front of Christopher.

He glanced at them and gave a dismissive laugh. "She's just a young girl who liked it. I gave it to her to keep her happy." He reached out to pat my shoulder. "You're pregnant, Anna. Don't be so dramatic. It's not good for the baby."

He tried to hug me, but I shoved him away with all my strength.

His face darkened, and he slammed the door as he walked out of the house.

Our cold war began that night. He didn't come home again.

My pregnancy symptoms hit me with brutal force. Morning sickness, severe swelling, and bone-deep exhaustion plagued me daily. Every single time I needed someone to hold my hand, he was gone. My monthly prenatal checkups became lonely solo trips.

One afternoon, on my way to the clinic, my phone buzzed with a message from Hailey.

Anna, Christopher told me about your fight.

I'm so sorry for causing trouble between you two, but he really only sees me as a little sister.

He's completely drunk at the studio right now, sobbing and calling out your name.

Can you please come and pick him up?

I believed her.

But when I arrived at the studio and pushed open the door, I saw Hailey draped over Christopher, their bodies moving together in a desperate, tangled rhythm.

While I had been agonizing in a cold bed with pregnancy pains, they had been losing themselves in pleasure.

My mind went entirely blank. I stood frozen at the doorway, unable to move a single muscle.

Christopher was murmuring "baby" into Hailey's ear.

Hailey tilted her head and caught sight of me. A slow, mocking smirk spread across her face. Then, she pouted, her voice dripping with cheap sweet talk. "You're so bad. Do you always treat girls like this? I bet you were the exact same way with Anna."

Christopher laughed, his voice raspy. "How could I? She's deaf in one ear. Whispering sweet nothings to her would just be a waste of breath."

The very boy who had once fought so fiercely to protect my dignity had turned his words into a razor-sharp blade, slashing straight through my heart.

My disability had become a joke for their bedroom play.

Tears poured down my face. Unable to bear it for another second, I screamed and flung my heavy leather bag straight at them.

After a fleeting moment of panic, my husband chose to protect his mistress.

He shielded Hailey with his body and shoved me back with such force that I crashed onto the hard floor.

A sharp, stabbing pain bloomed in my abdomen. Slowly, warm blood began to seep down my thighs.

Before I lost consciousness, the last thing I saw was Christopher tenderly wiping away a tiny, barely visible scratch on Hailey's forehead.

When I woke up in the hospital, Christopher was standing over my bed, his face twisted in frustration.

"Anna, you're a grown woman! When are you going to stop acting so hysterical?" he snapped. "Do you have any idea how close we came to losing the baby?"

The monitors beside my bed beeped steadily, showing that my vitals were weak but stable. But inside, I knew my heart had stopped beating entirely.

"Let's get a divorce," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion.

Christopher froze, then let out a cold, mocking laugh. "A divorce? How? Our finances, the studio, the child, our families... we are tied together for life."

In all the things he listed, there was not a single mention of love. Yet, love was the only reason we had ever walked down the aisle.

Christopher bent down, his voice dropping to a whisper that sounded terrifyingly gentle. "We are never breaking up. Not in this lifetime."

The vows we had once spoken so happily had finally become the chains that imprisoned me.

In that quiet hospital room, I realized with absolute clarity that the boy I had loved had died a long, long time ago.

The studio fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

The host was sobbing so hard her shoulders shook, trying and failing multiple times to raise the microphone to her lips.

Meanwhile, the viewership of the live stream had skyrocketed to millions.

Oh my god, can these two pieces of trash just burn in hell?

The entertainment industry is disgusting. I'm never believing another celebrity romance again.

I'm so disappointed in the internet detectives. It's been twenty minutes and no one has figured out who this bastard is yet?

The host choked back a sob. "Are... are you doing okay now?"

I forced a dramatic, exaggerated smile, trying to comfort the poor girl who had cried her makeup off. "I got my divorce, and without him, my life is absolutely wonderful."

"If you could say one thing to him right now through our program, what would it be?"

I shook my head, ignoring the desperate gaze of the man on the screen.

"There's nothing to say. After all these years, I don't love him, and I don't even hate him anymore. When you finally rid yourself of the wrong person, you should only thank God for the escape."

"That's enough!"

A harsh, desperate cry cut me off.

Through the live feed, the mask of calm that Christopher had tried so hard to maintain shattered completely. His voice was hoarse, raw with pain.

"Everything back then... it was all my fault," he wept, begging the screen. "But I'm begging you, Anna... please, don't throw me away."

The live chat exploded.