Don't Marry the Man Who Took My Kidney

Six months after I donated a kidney to my fiancé, I walked in on him in bed with my best friend.

I was absolutely livid, my heart hammering in my chest as I demanded an explanation. "I gave you a part of myself! You swore you'd rather die than let me take this risk, and this is how you repay me?"

Mark, my fiancé, just shrugged it off like it was nothing. "Relax, babe. Don't you see? It was a game. Playing hard to get. If I hadn't made it seem like the ultimate sacrifice, would you have been so eager to hand over a kidney?"

His words shattered me. Right then and there, I told him I wanted a divorce.

Before he could even respond, Jessica, my so-called best friend, let out a nasty laugh. "A divorce? Seriously? That would just make Mark look like a monster who dumps a girl after she's saved his life."

Mark jumped in, declaring he'd rather die than get a divorce.

Even though I fought with every ounce of strength I had, they twisted everything. In the end, they got away with it all and had me killed.

Then I woke up.