It turns out all of this was just because of his deceased first love.

He had simply placed the love he had for her onto me.

I turned off the lights in the room and weakly leaned against the door.

I reflected on the little moments from the past year we had spent together.

Tears began to flow uncontrollably.

A voice inside me said:

"Break up, you're just a substitute.

"What's more unforgettable than a first love is a dead first love.

"You'll never measure up to a dead person."

But wasn't I happy this past year?

He gave me everything-economic value, emotional value, and sexual value.

So what if I'm a stand-in?

Should I really be comparing myself to someone who's dead?

Can't I just pretend it never happened?

Should I give up this huge villa and go back to a bare apartment?

Should I give up the rich second-generation boyfriend and go back to the small town for arranged blind dates?

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