Starry night has its peak and its decline

The year Scarlett and I were purest, the year I poured my entire soul into her.

Three scars became etched onto her body for me: one above her brow, one on her ankle, and one across her back.

Everyone whispered that Scarlett loved me more than life itself.

Until, another man brazenly showed up at my door.

"You must be Adrian, right?"

He flung a stack of photos, hitting me square in the face.

"Scarlett hasn't loved you for ages. I suggest you get lost, while you still have a shred of dignity."

In the photos, Scarlett's gaze was soft, tender.