On a stormy day, my husband took a detour to drive his junior assistant home.
I was six months pregnant, but the moment I walked in the door, I asked for a divorce.
Hearing me, my exhausted husband stared at me in disbelief.
"You had to sit in the car for a little longer. Was that really such a big deal?"
A little longer?
The drive should have taken ten minutes, but I was forced to sit in the back seat for nearly two hours, watching the two of them flirt.
When I took a sip of lemonade in the car, my husband accused me of making it smell and gave me the cold shoulder for three days.
But when his junior assistant said her stomach was bothering her, he went out in the rain to buy her a hot drink and roasted sweet potatoes!
Seeing that I was serious, my husband glanced at my pregnant belly.
"Don't say I didn't warn you. If we divorce, life won't be easy for you or the baby!"
I smiled and said nothing.
I was planning to leave him, too.
How could I possibly keep his child?
