John watched my internal struggle, my face ghostly pale, until I finally gave in. He seemed relieved.
Then he said softly, "Emily, just this once. Jessica is not well and could go into shock if this gets out."
"Please, I’m begging you to help her. Help me."
John actually used the word "beg."
Ridiculous.
My entire family, my daughter, my unborn child—none of them mattered as much to him as Jessica.
"Let's get a divorce."
I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face, feeling like I was tearing out a part of my soul.
It had not been easy for John and me to get married. Initially, my family was against it, saying John was using me as a stand-in.
After all, John’s affair with Jessica was well-known. He once sped to the airport to catch her, crashed a Ferrari, and nearly died.
But I refused to believe the rumors.
I thought that like plants, with enough care and nourishment, even the most barren land could bloom beautifully.
I had clung to this belief for over a decade.
But now, I realized how wrong I was. John wasn’t barren land; he was a swamp, swallowing everything whole!
John panicked,
"Emily, there’s no need for us to talk about divorce."
I looked at him,