The year my boyfriend's company teetered on the brink of bankruptcy, I chose to leave him and go abroad.
When I returned, he had made a name for himself, while I was destitute.
He did everything he could to marry me, then kept me trapped by his side and humiliated me in every way.
On a talk show, he called me vain and obsessed with money, leaving me to face online abuse and public condemnation.
His young lover openly provoked me and even ruined the work I had poured my heart into. He forced me to bow my head and apologize, while he spent night after night with her.
Only when he learned I had terminal stomach cancer and not much time left did he kneel before me, weeping and begging me not to leave.
What good would that do? Affection that comes too late is worth less than grass.
If I could choose, I would rather never have been with him at all.
