Divorcing My Husband and His Precious First Love

Cecil, though, assumed this was like every other time—that I'd throw a fit and then talk myself back around.

He followed me into the study looking rather pleased with himself and asked, in the most wounded tone,

"Sweetheart, why didn't you come pick me up last night?"

"Weren't you afraid something happened between me and Lillian?"

I handed him the new agreement.

"Whatever's between the two of you is none of my business anymore."

Cecil saw it at a glance—the asset split had gone from fifty-fifty to forty for him, sixty for me.

He looked at me, full of disappointment, then slammed the desk and roared,

"I only asked you to pay twenty thousand, and you're scheming for ten percent of my assets? You think I'm some sucker you can bleed dry?"

"I just don't get it—we had a good life, and you had to go and get petty and jealous over nothing!"

"Just because you wouldn't apologize, Lillian cried all night! I spent the whole night calming her down, came back to give you a way out, and you take a mile!"

"They were right about you. I really have spoiled you rotten! This is the last time I explain myself. I'm exhausted!"

Then he slammed the door and left.

He didn't know that I was the one who was truly exhausted.

I wouldn't chase after him this time, block his way, make him swear up and down that he'd keep his distance from Lillian.

An hour later, Cecil came back.

He stormed in, grabbed me, and started dragging me out.

"Doris! You're angry at me, so why did you have someone shove Lillian?"

"You're going to the hospital to make up for what you did!"

He hauled me to the hospital by force.

It wasn't until we were inside the blood donation room that I understood what "making up for it" meant—he wanted me to donate blood for Lillian.

I refused to cooperate, so he pinned me down and told the nurse to just draw it.

"Doris, this is what you owe Lillian! If anything happens to her because of you, you can sit and rot in prison!"

The bite of the needle hurt, but not as much as being held down, unable to move.

The last time he'd pinned me down like this, we'd been in a car accident.

The moment the danger came, he'd thrown himself over me without a second thought, shielding me with his own body.

Now he was holding me down to have my blood drawn—for his little childhood sweetheart.

I stopped struggling.

I'd just call it repaying him for saving my life back then.

As the blood bag filled, sharp waves of pain began rolling through my stomach.

The nurse noticed something was wrong with my face and moved to stop the draw, but Cecil snapped,

"Keep going!"

By the time two bags were full, I was seeing stars.

Cecil couldn't wait—he grabbed the blood bags and ran, leaving me to crumple to the floor, drained and doubled over with cramps.

Watching his back disappear as he ran, I laughed until tears came.

The nurse made me a cup of warm honey water and asked, worried,

"Ms. Henson, are you all right?"

I shook my head, took the cup, and drank it down in one go.

The warmth eased the cramping a little.

I thanked the nurse and left on my own.

To my surprise, Cecil—who was supposed to be taking care of Lillian—had gone home.

He dropped a chicken into the kitchen sink and looked at me, worn out.

"Doris, you saved Lillian, but you still have to apologize to her."

"Make a pot of chicken soup, and the two of us will take it to her together—"

"I did nothing wrong."

I cut him off, my voice cold.

"Even if you donated blood for Lillian, that doesn't cancel out the fact that you had someone shove her!"

Cecil looked at my pale face, sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work in the kitchen.

"I'll make the soup. In a bit, you're coming back to the hospital with me to apologize in person! I'm not carrying your burden for you anymore!"

He actually called a night of having fun with his childhood sweetheart "carrying my burden"?

Watching his busy figure at the counter, something in my nose stung without warning.