Due to political turmoil in an Asian country, the governnt forces and the opposition have plunged the nation into chaos, making life unbearable for its citizens. This country's every move has already beco headline news around the world, prompting our TV station to send war correspondents.
Given the generous salary and bonuses, I volunteered to go. This assignnt isn't just up for grabs; first, it's extrely dangerous. Even though we're protected by the local United Nations peacekeeping forces, there's always a risk of dying in the conflict. Second, it's a great opportunity to build a career and reputation, and any ambitious journalist would be willing to take the risk.
Thanks to my qualifications and extensive experience, I was the obvious choice. Before leaving, my wife Betty spent a long ti trying to dissuade . She was worried about the dangers, but danger wasn't new to .
I've always believed in fate—if I'm lucky, I'll survive the worst; if not, even hiding at ho could end in disaster. After a recent illness, I've lived more freely. With no children, just my wife Betty, there wasn't much holding back.
So, I packed my bags and headed to the war-torn nation in Asia. Only upon arriving did I truly understand what war was.
The refugees along the way, the constant sound of gunfire, the ruined cities, and the rescue organizations carrying bodies and the wounded—it all seed like hell on earth.
After arriving, Betty called every day to check if I was safe, never missing a day. Her calls were the only warmth I felt in that chaotic country.
During the day, I'd head out with my cara and a partner, dodging gunfire and narrowly escaping death. At night, sleep was impossible with the ongoing sounds of gunfire and explosions, never knowing when a shell might hit our room.
After a few days, we visited a United Nations relief hospital with the peacekeeping troops to interview and film the wounded and civilians, capturing the horrific scenes to raise global awareness and hopefully, to stop the atrocities with the conscience of the world.
Inside the makeshift hospital, which was more like a refugee dorm, the sll of disinfectant, dicine, and the stench of human waste was overwhelming. It was hardly a hospital by any standard, but under the circumstances, it was a sanctuary for those who could be saved.
People with major and minor injuries were gathered in tents, much like a refugee camp. I moved from one ward to another with my cara, capturing the most severe and grueso injuries. I had seen many horrific scenes before, like car accident fatalities and charred bodies, but the sight of so much blood and suffering still deeply affected .
When I entered one ward and began filming a patient, I froze in front of her bed. She was Asian, and her face was hauntingly familiar. Although she had changed a lot, I recognized her.
She lay alone on the hospital bed, her body hastily bandaged, waiting for surgery in a long queue. With limited dical facilities and not enough staff for the number of injured, many patients lay waiting for help, and many died before their turn ca.
"Laura Brown? Is that you?" I trembled as I slowly approached the injured woman, nearly dropping my cara in shock the mont I saw her. I couldn't be 100% sure it was her; after all, eting here would be too much of a coincidence.
I set down the cara, walked up to her bedside, and took her hand, gently calling her na. Her forehead and body were covered in wounds, hastily bandaged. She kept her eyes closed, unresponsive, with only faint breathing.
As I called out to her, my mind was flooded with mories:
Laura, my childhood sweetheart.
We grew up together, attending the sa schools from elentary through college. She was the good girl, gentle and beautiful, my first love, the first woman to ever occupy my heart. We made our relationship official in high school and continued through college. When our relationship ca to light in front of her parents, they invited over and inquired about my family background, which I disclosed honestly.
Unexpectedly, Laura, so understanding and kind, had parents who were so materialistic and pragmatic. After visiting her ho, I barely saw her again.
I tried to contact her repeatedly, but her phone was unreachable. When I visited her house, her mother answered the door and simply said, "She's not ho," shutting out. Later, I learned that her parents had confined her at ho, forbidding her from seeing and even confiscating her phone.
The reason was simple: my family was not well-off at the ti, and her parents believed Laura could do better given her looks.
Thus, they firmly opposed our relationship, and a decade of feelings shattered under their interference. That's just how society is today.
Later, I heard that a college mate of ours managed to win over Laura's parents and she ended up marrying him.
This classmate was mixed-race, with a Singaporean father and an Arican mother. He had studied in the U.S., and his family was quite affluent in Singapore. He had pursued Laura during college, but she had always rejected him because she was with .
But after Laura and I were forced apart, he swooped in, leveraging his economic status to et her parents. With his family's wealth, Laura's opportunistic parents were all too eager to comply, and Laura, the ever-obedient daughter, followed her parents' wishes and married him.
Hearing about this had devastated for a long ti, but eventually, ti dulled the pain. Later, I heard she resented her parents for losing the love of her life and marrying soone she did not love. Eventually, she followed her husband to his family's ho country, Singapore, far from her roots and the mundane world.
And now, unexpectedly, I've encountered her here.
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