Half an hour vomiting, half an hour spiraling over whether marrying me was the “right choice” after making the worst one imaginable. Spoiler: he chose me. But commitment made under panic isn’t commitment at all.
We made it three months. Three long, painful months before I walked away—divorcing not the man I married, but the man he had revealed himself to be. And honestly?
That was the healthiest choice I ever made. Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered.
Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
