Keep Moving Forward, Leave The Past Behind

1 On our eighth anniversary, Lauren claimed she was working late. An hour later, I saw her livestreaming a wedding.

Radiant in red, she exchanged vows with my mother’s illegitimate son on a lavish altar. "Wesley is my forever," she told the camera.

I stormed the venue, but she met me with cold indifference. "He has depression. It’s just a therapeutic ceremony," she sighed.

I choked out that his father had driven mine to suicide. She sneered, calling me selfish and accusing me of weaponizing grief. Shattered, I climbed to the roof’s edge.

Just as I teetered, my phone rang with a video call from my eighteenyearold self. Brighteyed, he grinned. "Future me!

How many kids do you and Lauren have?" I numbly turned the camera toward the courtyard, where Lauren kissed Wesley deeply.

His face blanched. "Past me," I whispered, voice breaking, "whatever you do… don’t marry her." … "My Lauren... why..." His lips trembled violently, unable to process the sight.

I had no comfort to offer.

My own heart was being slowly shredded to pieces. "This is the reality," I said, my voice dry and hollow. "Right before you called, I was about to jump." On the screen, my younger self stared at me with wide, horrified eyes. "How can that be?

We are strong. We survived so much." I let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. "Maybe the people we love the deepest are the ones who can cut us the sharpest. Gary, I’m begging you.

Don't marry her." He looked entirely lost, his hands hovering over his camera. "But she isn't even with me right now.

She went to find a way to get the money to pay off my debts." A wave of memory washed over me.

Back then, my father had been driven to ruin and death by my mother and her lover’s joint scheme.

They had run off with a massive life insurance payout, leaving me with a mountain of predatory debt.

Their son, Wesley, had come with loan sharks, smashing up my tiny apartment and breaking my right hand, laughing as I screamed in agony.

Just as he was about to slice my face open with a blade, Lauren had thrown herself over my body. "I'll pay his debt in three days," she had screamed at them. "Now get the hell out!

If anyone touches him, I'll kill you!" Her fragile shoulders had shielded me from the entire world.

Later, I discovered she had raised the cash by selling her blood and plasma at shady, unregulated underground clinics. I had held her close, weeping with guilt and gratitude.

But she had simply smiled, proudly showing me her needlescarred arms. "This is the proof that I protect you," she had whispered. "It’s my badge of honor for life." But today, her protection belonged to someone else. "Do you see the groom on the stage?" I asked, my smile cold and selfdeprecating. "That's Wesley." The younger Gary grew paler, tears spilling down his cheeks. "So... she ended up with the monster who broke my hand?" Before I could answer, Lauren’s voice drifted over.

I quickly slipped the phone into my pocket.

She noticed my sudden movement and frowned, though she didn't care enough to investigate. "How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?" she asked, her tone heavy with irritation. "Stop acting like a bitter housewife, obsessing over every little thing." When I didn't respond, her voice turned even colder. "Wesley was young back then.

He was just messing around and took things too far. He knows he was wrong, and his guilt literally drove him into depression. What more do you want? He is practically your brother.

Do you really have to drive him to suicide to be satisfied?" She looked at me, a woman I had loved for eight years, yet she felt entirely like a stranger. "Wesley is happy today," she continued, grabbing my arm. "As his older brother, you should go over and toast him." Ignoring my silent resistance, she dragged me toward the banquet hall.

Through my hidden earpiece, the younger Gary was sobbing hysterically. "That's not Lauren... that's not her..." I walked like a hollow puppet, my body moving on instinct.

I wanted to scream, to cry, but my tears had run dry years ago. The banquet hall was packed with Wesley’s friends.

The moment I entered, a wave of whispers, snickers, and mocking glances swept through the room.

I stood there like a circus clown, pinned in place by Lauren’s tight grip, enduring their quiet amusement. "Bro, thank you for coming to my wedding." Wesley walked over, looking smug in his white groom’s suit.

He suddenly paused, covering his mouth as if he had said something wrong, his eyes glistening with crocodile tears. "Oh, I'm so sorry, bro. Please don't misunderstand Lauren and me.

She’s just helping with my therapy, holding a fake wedding to cheer me up." Looking at the triumphant gleam in his eyes, a wave of nausea hit me.

I turned to leave, but Wesley’s smile twisted into something sinister. "How can you leave without having a drink?" He snatched a bottle of champagne and popped the cork directly in my face.

A torrent of sticky, foaming alcohol sprayed over my face and head, soaking through my collar.

The room erupted into roaring laughter. "Look at him, like a drowned rat!" "So pathetic.

It's disgusting." The stinging liquid got into my eyes and throat, making me cough violently. I instinctively looked at Lauren for support, but someone kicked my foot from behind.

I lost my balance, crashing hard onto the concrete step. My hand slammed against the sharp edge of the riser, and blood immediately began to pool on the floor.

Lauren’s face tightened. She took a step toward me, but Wesley immediately let out a loud, pathetic sob. "It's all my fault. I'm so clumsy.

I shouldn't even be alive." Hearing his whimpers, Lauren froze. She retracted her foot, turning back to pat Wesley’s shoulder gently. "Don't blame yourself, sweetie.

He did it on purpose just to ruin your day. It has nothing to do with you." Then, she turned a freezing gaze back onto me. "Gary, are you doing this on purpose?

Creating this disgusting scene just to make Wesley feel guilty? How can you be so malicious?

Apologize to him right now!" I looked at her, my vision blurred by blood and champagne, and smiled softly. "Yes, I am malicious.

I won't ruin your special day anymore." I got up, turned, and walked away. Lauren looked panicked for a split second.

She wanted to call out to me, but her friends quickly pulled her back into the center of the crowd. I patched up my cut in the restroom.

When I came out, I saw Lauren and Wesley playing a wedding game, attempting to bite a suspended apple together. The apple slipped, and their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss.

The crowd erupted in cheers and wolf whistles. I stood in the shadows, looking like a thief peering into someone else's joy. As if sensing my presence, Lauren suddenly pulled back.

Her lips were still wet, and a flicker of guilt crossed her face before she quickly masked it with a light chuckle. "Don't get the wrong idea. It's just a game.

Don't be so petty." She walked over and tried to take my hand. "It's late.

Let's go home together." But Wesley clung to her arm, his voice small and needy. "Lauren, my head is spinning.

I feel dizzy." Lauren immediately turned to support him, looking at me with an apologetic shrug. "I'll help Wesley sober up first. You go on..." I didn't even look at her.

I simply walked past them and out of the venue. "I'll be right behind you," she called out. "Wait for me at the entrance." The venue was in the secluded suburbs, and finding a ride was impossible.

I walked for four hours in the pitch black, arriving home just as dawn was breaking. Unsurprisingly, she never caught up.

In my pocket, the quiet crying from my younger self hadn't stopped. "My Lauren would never let me walk alone in the dark," he whispered, his voice broken. "She would walk with me through any storm." I looked around the dark, empty living room. "Now, she has someone more important to accompany." The phone remained silent for a long time, so long that I thought the connection had failed.

Then, a cracked, resolute voice came through. "There are still two days before she returns.

I will use this time to end things with her forever." Back in the guest room, I pulled out my suitcase and began packing.

My younger self asked quietly, "Are you sleeping in separate rooms?

For how long?" I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. "A year and a half." The distance began when she hired Wesley as her personal assistant.

When I objected to my tormentor being near my wife, we had our first major screaming match. "I just respect his professional talent!" she had yelled. "Can you stop bringing your personal drama into my work like a lunatic?" I had asked for a divorce that night.

She had fallen to her knees, weeping and begging me to stay, swearing they were nothing but colleagues.

I had softened, believing her promise that she would let him go and never make me sad again. But Wesley stayed.

And she began coming home later and later, eventually missing our wedding anniversaries entirely while taking twoweek trips with him under the guise of business.

She forgot my birthday but kept a detailed schedule of his stomach medications.

Finally, one night, Wesley had videocalled her, weeping that knowing she lived in the same bed with me made his clinical depression worse.

The next day, Lauren threw all my clothes into the guest room, leaving me with a cold command: "Show some compassion for a sick person.

You can move back when his depression improves." The phone went quiet again. Then, my younger self murmured, "Don't be sad. It will be over soon." A tear slipped down my cheek.

Before I could finish packing, the door was kicked open. Lauren stood there, her eyes wild with fury.

She stormed over, pinning me violently against the wall. "Gary, I didn't think you could be this pathetic! You hired people to threaten Wesley? He is your brother!

Where is your goddamn humanity?!" The grip on my throat made me choke, but I stared back at her. "Lauren, are you blind? I don't know a single soul at that venue.

Who would I hire?" She hesitated, her grip loosening slightly. But then, Wesley stepped out from behind her, a fresh, red slap mark prominent on his cheek.

He fell to his knees, sobbing. "Gary, you can hit me or curse me, but please don't be mad at Lauren. She just wanted to help me. I know you hate me.

I'll just go die so I'm not in your way anymore." I looked at his pathetic, rehearsed drama, wondering how anyone could believe it.

Yet Lauren turned a look of deep disgust on me. "You are completely irrational now. Full of lies, bullying the weak.

How did you turn into such a monster?" She believed him instantly. I stopped trying to argue.

You can't wake someone who is pretending to be asleep. "Lauren," I asked quietly, "am I really the only one who changed?" We locked eyes in a silent, stubborn standoff.

Finally, she shoved me away. "Gary, if I knew you'd turn into this, I would have regretted ever meeting you!" She turned and ran after Wesley.

Suddenly, a flurry of footsteps and a tired but joyful voice echoed from my phone. "Gav, I'm back!

I got the money!" "From now on, I will protect you through fire and water." My body trembled, and tears streamed down my face.

It had been so long since I had heard her call me "Gav" with such pure, unadulterated tenderness. "She's back," the younger Gary sobbed on the other end. "I can see the needle marks on her arms... it hurts so bad... we loved each other so much, why did it end up like this?" Neither of us spoke for the rest of the night.

On his end, the younger Gary greeted Lauren’s triumphant smile with a cold, hollow stare. "Thanks.

I'll pay you back double." Lauren looked hurt. "Gav, why are you talking about paying me back?

I'd give you my life." When he didn't soften, her voice began to crack. "Don't be like this.

I'm scared." I sat in the dark guest room all night, deleting every single photo of her from my phone.

At dawn, my younger self spoke again, his voice weary but firm. "The debts are cleared. Wesley wanted to break my other hand, but Lauren chased him off with a kitchen knife.

She’s looking for a doctor to fix my hand now.

I also saw the ring she bought to propose to me." "I’m not going to get my hand fixed, and I won't accept the ring." Hearing his decision, the heavy weight in my chest suddenly lifted. "Thank you." I knew how agonizing that choice was for him.

But it was the only way out. I rolled my suitcase out into the living room, only to find Wesley already sitting on the sofa, feeding Lauren snacks in an intimate display.

He looked up at me, raising an eyebrow in silent triumph.

I ignored him entirely, but Lauren grabbed my suitcase. "Where do you think you're going?" "Now that you've brought him into our home," I said coldly, "I'm clearing out to give you some space.

Unless you want me to stay and ruin your fun?" Lauren’s brow furrowed with annoyance. "What fun?

I never said..." "It doesn't matter." I pulled my hand away and kept walking. "Enough!" Lauren slammed her hand on the table, standing up. "Gary, cut it out!

There is a limit to throwing tantrums!

You are the one who started this mess, and now you're running away?" She looked at me with a patronizing sigh of pity. "Do you know that threatening Wesley yesterday could get you detained?

It's only because of his generosity that you aren't in a cell right now." I let out a dry sneer. "Well, thank you both so very much." Lauren kicked the trash can over, her temper flaring. "Enough!

I have tolerated you for too long! Gary! Is this how you speak to your wife?!" She glared at me, her voice turning icy. "Apologize to Wesley. Now.

Don't force me to sue you for assault.

Even if you're my husband, I won't show you favoritism." In my ear, the sweet voice of the past Lauren drifted in. "Gav, your hand will heal soon," she whispered softly. "Don't be afraid.

Whatever happens, I'll be by your side. If it doesn't heal, I'll take care of you forever. I'll be your right hand.

Even if you want the moon, I'll pluck it from the sky for you." Those sweet promises from the past cut deeper than the cold fury of the woman standing before me now.

My eyes grew wet. Lauren, thinking I was finally backing down, softened her tone. "Forget the kneeling.

Just say sorry and we can move past this." "In your dreams." I grabbed my suitcase and headed for the door. Lauren flipped the coffee table in a rage. "Fine!

Walk out that door, and don't you dare think about coming back!" she screamed.

Seeing that my pace didn't falter, a sudden wave of panic flashed across her face, followed by an even deeper rage.

She grabbed Wesley by the shoulder. "We already had our wedding, and we haven't spent the night together yet!

If you have any dignity left, don't come back to disturb us!" She stared at me, tense, waiting for me to break.

But I didn't stop. "Good for you," I said without looking back. "I hope you two are very happy together." Her face twisted in fury.

She dragged Wesley into the bedroom, slamming the door shut. Soon, loud, exaggerated sounds of passion began to echo through the apartment.

I walked out, taking a cab straight to the airport. Through the phone, my younger self wept softly. "I didn't get the surgery. I ran away.

I blocked her number." As he sobbed, the memories in my mind began to blur, rewrite, and fade. Suddenly, the world spun violently out of control.