Love, Broken, and Found
I married the same man seven times.
He had divorced me seven times for his first love, just so he could spend vacations with her freely, and so she wouldn't have to deal with rumors or gossip.
The first time we divorced, I tried to stop him by hurting myself. I ended up in the hospital, but he didn't even come to see me.
The second time, I lowered myself to apply as his assistant at his company, just so I could see him more.
By the sixth divorce, I had already learned to pack my things quietly and leave our apartment without a fuss.
My meltdowns, my constant giving in, and my numb compromises only led to one thing: him coming back to marry me on schedule, and repeating the same old games.
Until now.
When I heard that his first love was returning to the country, I handed him the divorce papers first.
As usual, he made a plan to remarry me later, but this time, he had no idea that I was leaving for good.