Fine Drinking

Fine drinking On that rainy night, the calm was shattered by the phone ringing: "Your ex-husband owes a debt of three million, and you are the guarantor." I rushed back to the store, where my parents-in-law were leading a strong man to smash ten years of hard work. Amidst the flying glass, the mother-in-law screamed: "You bastard raised by an orphan deserves to pay off our debt!" When I got divorced, I clutched the diagnosis certificate - terminal cervical cancer. In the past seven years, I slept under bridges with my child in my arms and stole expired bread from supermarkets. Until the day I lost all my hair during chemotherapy, the news about my ex-husband's family's car accident popped up on my phone. I raised the syringe to the TV news: "Look, even the King of Hell punished me with a drink."