Van had always adored me back in university, supporting me with food, clothes, even tuition while my poor background kept me focused on survival rather than love. I never truly cared for her, but I accepted her help and eventually married her after graduation so her family could help me settle into a stable job in the city. Three years into the marriage, with no children and no real affection on my part, I grew distant and decided to leave in search of “true love.”

After our divorce, I quickly moved on and began dating a beautiful business partner. A year later, we planned our wedding. But during the ceremony, Van unexpectedly appeared—pregnant. She congratulated us, then calmly confessed her biggest regret was wasting her youth on a man who used her. My bride, shocked, asked whose child she was carrying, and Van revealed that she became pregnant immediately with her new partner—implying that my infertility, not hers, prevented us from having children all those years.

The revelation stunned the entire room. My bride dropped her bouquet, and afterward refused to continue the ceremony. She insisted on canceling the wedding until I took a fertility test, explaining she refused to risk her future on a man who might not be able to have children. I couldn’t blame her—nor Van. Their reactions were justified.

In the end, I realized my downfall was of my own making. I used someone who loved me, treated her poorly, and walked away assuming I deserved better. Now, faced with humiliation and uncertainty, I understood the bitter truth: the pain I once caused had finally come back to me.