After the Divorce, I Lived Like a Stray Dog

A divorce agreement tore apart the peaceful life I'd built over half a lifetime. The moment I was pushed out of my marriage, I became a stray dog in the eyes of others: nowhere to belong, no dignity left, drifting through the folds of the city. I scraped together meals and had no fixed place to live. I endured enough gossip and survived enough late-night breakdowns for life to wear away every bit of tenderness in me, leaving only a bristling temper and a stubborn refusal to bow my head. The leaky rental, the cold instant noodles, the illnesses I bore alone: all were footnotes to my miserable life. But even a stray dog knows how to survive. Gritting my teeth, I clawed for a chance in the mud and slowly found my footing amid other people's disdain. This isn't a triumphant tale of turning my life around. It's simply the story of a divorced woman who casts off every label and lives like a stray dog, fighting tooth and nail to win back that little bit of ordinary happiness that belongs to her.