If I Can't Make You Stay
My husband, a regiment commander, once promised me he'd only accompany his depressed first love ninety-nine times. But when I finally reached that ninety-ninth tally, I saw the two of them locked in a tight embrace.
After that, I stopped crying and begging him not to go to her. I only asked him for a safety locket—a small blessing for our soon-to-be-born child.
At the mention of the baby, his expression softened.
"When I get back," he said gently, "I'll go with you to the hospital for the checkup."
I nodded obediently. I didn't tell him that ten days earlier, I had already filed for divorce.
Now, our divorce was final.