After five years of marriage, my husband was infatuated with a love that was never meant to be—someone else's shining star, Linda Elliott. Linda was overwhelmed with crippling debts. When her creditors came knocking, Julian, my husband, shoved me into the fray to deal with them. I felt utterly humiliated, and as I lay on the brink of death, he held her securely in his arms. I pleaded with him not to abandon me, but his words were as cold and sharp as ice:
"Linda is already ten months pregnant and about to give birth, and you have your miracle. Why is it so difficult for you to confront the creditors?"
He believed that the miracle I possessed would let me come back to life endlessly. Yet, what he didn't grasp was that it only granted me nine chances to survive. The day he forced me to face the creditors for his beloved Linda was my ninth and final chance.
Later, my lifeless body lay before him. Only then did he realize, too late, that I was truly gone. The man who never prayed found himself in a chapel, kneeling for what seemed like an eternity—more than thirty-five days—pleading for the chance that I might return to his side.
