Of Fractured Vows and Broken Hearts
My marriage certificate with Shane Galingston was lost again.
By the time we went to replace it for the ninth time, his childhood sweetheart deliberately raised her voice as she said, "Lily has been divorced eight times and has had nine abortions. She also has AIDS and syphilis… practically every vice in the book. Did you know all that?"
With a loud crash, a newlywed couple sitting nearby was so startled that they fell to the floor, groaning in pain.
In an instant, contemptuous and disgusted gazes poured in from all directions, pinning me in place.
The icy slime of rotting refuse dripped down my face, chilling not just my skin but my heart as well.
This time, I didn't hold back. I turned and walked straight toward the complaint counter.
But Shane, who had stayed silent all along, suddenly grabbed my arm. He wiped the filth from my face and coaxed me in a low, gentle voice.
"Don't be angry. She's just childish—she likes to fool around. She didn't mean to smear your name.
"Besides, she's not targeting you. She's just throwing a tantrum at me. How could I not know what kind of person you are?"
As he spoke, he shot his childhood sweetheart a helpless yet indulgent glance.
"Go ahead and help us reissue—"
I pushed his hand away without expression and cut him off.
"No need. Let's get a divorce."