You Left Without Your Umbrella
Language: en
After our eighteenth failed attempt at divorce, Mike suddenly stopped bringing it up altogether. It was a stark contrast to how things had been before. Every single attempt prior had ended in absolute chaos. I had slit my wrists, stood on the ledge of our high-rise, and plastered photos of him and his personal assistant all over the corporate lobby. At a press conference, I had publicly torn Isla’s clothes off, leaving her with severe post-traumatic stress disorder. He should have loathed me. Yet, the word "divorce" never crossed his lips again. He came home right on the dot every night,…