I breathed a sigh of relief, went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, and pushed open the door to Janet's room.
She sat alone on the floor, her head buried in her knees, her frail shoulders shaking slightly.
The room was a mess, with wet clothes, broken glass, and some white pills scattered around...
"Janet, are you okay?" I handed her the glass of water.
Janet looked up, her eyes red.
When she saw me, she quickly turned away, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes.
"Yvonne, I'm sorry we disturbed you."
I had suggested divorce to her before. Over the years, Janet had endured so much pain and humiliation because of the issue of having children. I saw it all.
But every time I mentioned divorce, tears welled up in her eyes.
After all, it had been almost ten years. During their toughest times, York had once held her and cried, promising that he would make her life better someday.
Life had gotten better, but York had completely changed.
Still, Janet persisted, always believing that if she just tried a little harder, things would get better, especially if they had a child.