You Were My First, He'll Be My Last

"Yes, Professor. I’ve decided to take your advice and continue studying fashion design in Paris after graduation."

I leaned back in my chair, finally agreeing to what I once resisted.

My grandfather's will bound me to marry a Velasco. So, on my 20th birthday, I got engaged to Adrian Velasco—two years older and my schoolmate, instead of Diego Velasco, his uncle, who was seven years older and known to be very cold, even to women.

After the engagement, I moved into his villa, where he filled the walls with a hundred photos from our childhood to our engagement, “for our children to remember.”

When he became CEO of Velasco Group, he even launched a designer bag named ‘L13,’ as a gift for my 22nd birthday—on the 13th. I believed his love was real.

Tonight marked our second anniversary. A week ago, I found out I was pregnant and planned to surprise him.

But everything shattered when I walked into my OB-GYN appointment and saw Louisa Moreno, Adrian’s secretary, proudly flaunting her pregnancy. “It’s Adrian’s,” she smiled, adding they were off to Ibiza with his friends to celebrate.

Then came the knife—she shared my birthday. She was the real inspiration behind the L13 bag.

My name is Elena, but Adrian always called me Lena. Everything, it turned out, had always been for Louisa.

I did not get the ultrasound that day. I made a promise instead: to terminate.

When I confronted him about our anniversary, he said, “We can celebrate our anniversary anytime after we get married. But I rarely get to see my friends. Please, understand, just this once.”

Understand. The word that always followed betrayal.

If he thought I would stay and understand again, he was wrong. I was no longer Elena, the girl who loved blindly and forgave too much.

In ten days, I terminated the pregnancy, completed my fashion degree, and burnt all 100 photos before leaving for Paris. Let him marry his new bitch.

***

“You're really a bastard, Adrian,” I whispered as the edges of the photo blackened and curled inward.

I still remembered the day he said, “And if one day I ever disappoint you—burn them, one by one. When the last photo turns to ash, leave me. It means I’ve become nothing more than a bastard who doesn’t deserve you.

“But I promise, mi amor, I will never let it come to that. I will never hurt you that deeply. I can’t afford to lose you.”

But the one I burned was number 96. The reason: he traveled to Ibiza on the day that was supposed to be our two-year anniversary dinner.

Adrian dared to disappoint me who knew him since diapers instead of his friends and his new secretary, Louisa.

Morning after that heartbreak night, I immediately accepted my professor's offer a few days ago: a prestigious graduate program in Paris.

After hanging up the call, a voice message from Louisa came.

“You two, stop kissing or your lips will get swollen, haha!” a female voice teased.

Then a chuckle. “Let it be already, let it be. She’s way more fun than Elena after all.”

Another voice chimed in, “Well, Elena’s too stiff, right? The fiancée who still acts like a schoolgirl. No wonder he switched.”

Then a buzz came again.

[Louisa: Oops, sorry, my phone accidentally recorded a voice-note and sent it to you. Don't take it to heart, Elena. They were just joking.]

Accidentally? Please.

Louisa Moreno would never have been accidentally sending me things, since she had done it for the past year.

One day, she would happily send me a photo of Adrian, dead asleep, head resting on her lap in his office, saying he was too tired after meeting and found solace on her.

Then the photo where Adrian bought her a Cartier bracelet, as if she were the girlfriend, not me, the fiancée.

There was also the time she messaged, [Don’t worry, I took care of him.] after Adrian stayed the night at her apartment because he was too drunk from a client dinner.

Each one chipped away at me. And each time, I took a photo off the wall and watched it curl into ash.

My phone buzzed again. [Louisa: Hey, are you mad? Come on! You should already know, right? You may be his fiancée, but I’m the one he loves in his bed.]

Attached below was a photo of them.

Adrian shirtless, one arm wrapped around Louisa, who lay against his chest, smirking at the camera.

I did not cry, but simply stood up, plucked the 97th photo from the bottom row, and burned it.

Before the photo was completely burned, I came to the appointment in the clinic I made yesterday and terminated the fetus. The doctor repeatedly asked about my decision, after all he knew it was Velasco’s heir, but in the end we still did it.

The doctor suggested that I should stay at least a day, so I stayed and took a rest, asking him not to tell my family nor the Velasco family.

The next day, I came back to the villa and directly went to the study room, continued preparing my graduation exhibition pieces.

I slapped both my cheeks lightly with my palms and muttered, “You promised not to depend on that boy again. Since everything is broken into pieces, let’s fly high on your own hard work.”

I stayed up several nights to remodel each piece, since it had its own story.

From the very first dress I ever made as a child, to the very one I submitted when applying for university, and also a crimson gown that I originally made for Adrian’s graduation party.

I ignored every buzz in my phone for days and only focused on the dresses.

As many nights passed, I finally completed every piece in the morning of the exhibition.

Sergio Duarte, my older brother, called me through the phone, “Elena, we will arrive at your campus in a minute.”

I smiled, warmth blooming in my chest. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

The morning had started with enthusiasm, but as I stepped out of my room, I stopped dead in my tracks.

In the kitchen, the most disgusting sight I could have imagined fell to my eyes.

Adrian and Louisa were cooking together like a happily married couple, I didn't even know when they had returned from Ibiza.

Louisa noticed me first. “Oh, Elena, you finally come out!”

Adrian looked up and said, “Come and eat first. I deliberately came back this morning to give you a surprise. Are you surprised?”

I smiled faintly. “Not really. But sorry, I’m not hungry. I’ll just….”

“Ow!” Louisa suddenly yelped dramatically, cutting me off.

She dramatically cut her fingers, what shocked me, Adrian put her bleeding finger into his mouth to stop the blood without hesitation.

“Sorry, I am so shocked to hear Elena didn’t want to eat,” Louisa whimpered, her eyes shining with false tears.

Adrian turned sharply toward me, frowning. “Lena, look! For you, Louisa even hurt herself. At least eat a little to appreciate the one who cooked.”

I felt like a child being scolded by her parents for not finishing dinner. It was humiliating.

“Sit!” Adrian ordered me again.

I bit my tongue and walked to the table, plopping down with restrained fury. I picked up the spoon and dipped it into the soup.

Adrian nodded and turned to Louisa. “I’ll get a plaster.”

The moment he disappeared, Louisa’s entire expression shifted. “Is the soup good?” she asked.

“So salty,” I said without looking at her, “like my feelings.”

She leaned her elbow on the counter, eyes sparkling with cruelty. “Hopefully it doesn’t hurt your stomach.”

I froze, then I choked, trying to spit out the poison she gave.

Damn it, she tried to make me sick before my exhibition!