On the day of delivery, my husband, who pretended to be poor, sent me to a small, remote clinic. Three hours later, the midwife came to me with the motionless baby in her arms and shook her head regretfully. But I didn't even have the strength to cry, only a tear slipped from the corner of my eye. Five hours later, I deposited the child's body in the funeral home morgue. Lifting his small body took all my strength. Seven hours later, I dragged my weak body back home alone and silently signed my name on the divorce agreement. After taking care of her son's funeral alone, she met her husband again. But in front of me, he kissed his little green plum inseparably. I didn't say anything, I just picked up my suitcase and got on the high-speed train back home. Three days later, my husband showed up at my door in his Rolls-Royce and knelt in front of me: "Will you come home with me? I want you to be the happiest woman in the world..."
