Erasing Her First Love

On our wedding anniversary, my wife slit her wrists in the bathtub, dying by suicide for her late first love.

When I opened her old diary, I was pulled back in time—to when Cecelia was only sixteen.

Her so-called unforgettable first love was currently trying to sweet-talk her into tattooing his name on her arm.

Rage flared in my chest. I yanked Cecelia behind me and snarled, "Back off, you little punk!"

Cecelia suffered from severe depression. She had completely lost interest in everything.

Today was our wedding anniversary. Out of nowhere, she actually asked for an anniversary cake.