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Every year, I get depressed when December comes around. It's not because I hate Christmas, but because it reminds me of that person. Once upon a time, there was someone I really fell in love with. I was at an age where people would say I didn't really understand love, but I really loved him. I dated him for about a year. After about six months of dating, he asked me if I wanted to marry him. He was working, and we promised to be together when I graduated from school. Since I was little, I dreamed of getting married and becoming a young mother by the time I was 20. At that time, I was at the peak of happiness. But then my bad habit came out. He said that I have no sense of chastity. Even if I have a boyfriend that I really love, I will sleep with other men without a second thought. No matter how many times I was warned, I couldn't fix this. I didn't feel guilty. So when I found out I was pregnant, he asked me if the child was his, and we had a terrible fight. I was sure it was his child. Then one day in December, he said he was working on a holiday and left the house. I went to the rental shop thinking I'd watch a DVD. That's when I saw it. I saw him holding a child of about 2 years old and going into a nearby toy store with a woman of about the same age as him. My spine froze. Why? What was that all about? I couldn't bring myself to go home and watch a DVD, and I was thinking about it when he came back. I questioned him. In fact, he had a wife and child who he was separated from, and today was the child's birthday. I see, I was deceived. But then, what about the child in my belly? "I'm going to divorce my wife, but I can't take care of the child." I thought I couldn't give birth and raise it alone. In the end, I broke up with him and the child in my belly. It was December.