A Broken Marriage Can Never Be Mended!

When her grandmother's final wish is to see her husband, she desperately calls Chris eighteen times. He ignores every single ring. Alone at the hospital, she endures her grandmother's passing and coordinates the funeral. The painful truth emerges on social media: Chris spent that fateful night celebrating his ex-girlfriend’s birthday. Realizing his heart belongs elsewhere, she leaves the crematorium, prints the divorce papers, and decides to finally end their shattered union.

Chapters

Chapter 2

The paper brushed against my face, leaving a bloodstain. My face was in pain, but my heart was numb.

It turned out that our marriage, to him, was a moral coercion.

We grew up together like childhood sweethearts in the conventional sense.

The relationship between the White and Smith families was good, and we lived close to each other. Since our parents were busy with work, both Chris and I were mostly raised by my grandmother.

Since I was little, I had liked Chris. I would always invite him to join me, whenever I had something good to eat or play. Even the elders liked to joke about it.

"Do you really like Chris that much? How about you marrying him when you grow up?"

At that time, Chris also said, "She is so silly. If she doesn't marry me, who will like her?"

He once held my hand and said that when he grew up, he would marry me.

When I was 14 years old, my parents died in a car accident. I cried so hard at the funeral that I almost passed out.

Chris hugged me and said seriously,

"Anita, don't be afraid. I will protect you from now on."

The 16-year-old boy, with sincerity in his eyes, said, "I'll be there for you forever."

But that sentence, only I took it seriously.

From the age of 15 to 25, ten years,

I followed behind Chris, giving my all without any regrets.

During high school, he got into fights with people. Without hesitation, I stood in front of him to protect him. As a result, I broke a rib, which affected my performance on the SAT.

But when the elders asked about it, I didn't mention him at all. I only said, "I stood up to protect someone."

At that time, he laughed at me and asked, 'Do you love your brother so much?'

Blushing with shyness, I replied in a voice softly, "Yes, I do."

But Chris didn't hear it.

We went to different cities for college. He was the pride of a prestigious institution, while I barely made it into a common university.

I envied him and went to his school, only to see him kissing a tall and beautiful girl.

That girl was Sophia,

his first love.

In the following three years, I witnessed their joys and sorrows.

He caused trouble, and I took the blame; he made a scene, and I covered it up for him.

When he was in trouble, I was never absent; when he was perfectly good, Sophia appeared.

Until Sophia went abroad.

It was said that because their families disagreed with them being together. Sophia tearfully left the airport and broke up with him without looking back.

Chris got drunk, and I brought him home, but he pressed me down on the sofa.

That night, he called Sophia countless times. I curled up in pain, but he took me again.

When he sobered up, his eyes were red.

"Anita, I'm sorry."

He said, "I drank too much."

I hid my feelings, and forced myself to say, "It's okay. After all, we're both adults now."

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