My Sister Got Married and Divorced Eight Times

After the death of her eighth husband, Shirley stayed at home for half a year and decided never to marry again, planning to find work out of town.

As she put it, not marrying meant she had to earn her own living and wouldn't end up pitifully in old age.

I was very happy about her decision.

Marriage isn't everything in life. I hoped Shirley could find her own path.

I even told my boyfriend that since Shirley had taken care of me when I was young, I would take care of her when she got old.

And when I was gone, the kids would take over, ensuring she wouldn't be left alone in her old age.

My boyfriend didn't dare disagree and readily agreed.

But two years later, Shirley told me she was in love again.

The outside world was both exciting and lonely.

The man was Maurice Congreve, a colleague of hers, handsome and courteous.

His pursuit was passionate and relentless. He would wander the city at midnight just because Shirley wanted pizza.

He would take care of her meticulously when she was sick.

Shirley had turned him down for half a year.

But her heart, dry like an arid well, was stirred by this man like a pool in spring.

She would chat with me on the phone about his virtues, and while I was happy for her, I was also a bit worried.

Once, I asked if she had told Maurice about her past.

Shirley was silent, then sighed deeply.

"Polly, I'm afraid.

"You know, except for my first husband, the other seven were just because I didn't want to accept my fate.

"I didn't love them. They were attracted to my looks or wanted to win a bet. They didn't truly love me.

"But this time is different. Maurice loves me, and I love him.

"Polly, you know what? I really love him!

"I really want to try again!"

Her tone was firm, as if she were staking everything on one last gamble.

The words of caution I had ready got stuck in my throat.