The Truth Behind My Divorce After Six Childfree Years

That was six years ago. I spent $6,000 to have a classmate’s classmate get me a fake test report.

Six years ago, Michael and I were a pair of star-crossed lovers, relying on each other for survival.

Our lives weren’t actually that hard. My parents ran a small shop; I was their only child, and Michael’s parents were successful businesspeople.

The tragedy struck when Michael was ten. A car accident took their lives, and his uncle quickly seized control of everything.

He even sold Michael to human traffickers in the mountains.

I was the neighbor of that buyer.

Not long after, the neighbor had his own child, and Michael became a burden, a useless burden.

He was always doing endless chores, his body covered in bruises.

I secretly gave him bread from the shop and laid out his blankets in the pigsty.

Until one day, the neighbor lost money gambling and whipped Michael until he rolled on the ground.

I rushed forward and bit the neighbor’s hand tightly, but he flung me away, sending me crashing into a stone in the yard, bleeding profusely.

Enraged, Michael grabbed a lawnmower from the yard and slashed his neighbor’s neck.

The neighbor’s blood spurted a meter high, and he collapsed without uttering a word.

I looked at Michael, trembling and huddled in a corner, and knelt before my father.

“Dad, please save Michael! He did all this to save me!”

I begged him, crying.

“Dad, we can’t be heartless! Michael’s life is ruined if he goes to jail.”

My father, his eyes red, went to the police station. Less than a year later, he died unexpectedly in prison.

Michael was evicted, and our small grocery store was given to the neighbor.

From then on, we began a life of homelessness.

We were bitten by stray dogs, bullied by homeless people, and Michael even suffered from pneumonia and fever, nearly dying. I knelt before the doctor, begging to donate my blood to sell for money, and that’s how he was saved.

Until I was sixteen, Michael’s uncle, who had been living abroad, returned. Using his skills as a top international lawyer, he won Michael’s case, recovering most of the family fortune, and six months later found me, Michael, and among homeless children.

From that moment on, Michael became the eldest son of the Shaw family.

He entered a prestigious private school, and under his uncle’s influence, he went on to study law and political science, becoming a top lawyer.

I, however, wasn’t particularly gifted and barely managed to study law, becoming a junior assistant.

At that time, he held my hand, looking at me earnestly,

“Nicole, you don’t need to be outstanding. I’ll take care of everything.”

And then, at twenty-two, the year I graduated from university, Michael proposed to me in front of the entire faculty and student body,

“Nicole, marry me. I will love you for life. If I ever break this promise, may I swallow ten thousand needles and die in agony.”

A month later, we got married.

However, during the premarital checkup, it was discovered that Michael was infertile. Michael was so proud, and his relatives were all waiting to kick him while he was down.

That day, I hid his test results, got a fake one, and told him I was infertile.

That day, he held me tightly, comforting me that it was okay, as long as I was there, that was enough.

After marriage, Michael didn’t despise me; instead, he did his best to cultivate me, helping me gradually become a lawyer with some reputation.

I felt ashamed of being a burden to him, but he looked at me seriously,

“Nicole, a person must have a conscience. The moment your uncle walked into the police station, I swore that I would take care of you for the rest of my life.”

“Nicole, without you, there would be no Michael today. Everything I have is yours.”

But conscience has no legally binding force.