But in the end, they couldn't talk me out of it.
That year, Nigel's father got sick, and Nigel had been running back and forth between the two cities.
I felt sorry for him, so I decided to follow Nigel back to his hometown, a small city barely on the map.
"I know your parents have been pushing you to come home, and you've been holding out in Seaview City for my sake without telling me."
"I'm willing to go back with you, Nigel."
Just like that, we got our marriage license.
I was pregnant the same year. The baby came the next.
Life felt like someone had hit fast-forward, and somewhere along the way, the marriage started dying too.
Only now did it dawn on me.
If Nigel had truly kept his parents' pressure a secret, I never would have found out.
"Fine, what happened today was my fault. I apologize."
"Stop making a fuss. I'm really tired."
Nigel tossed out the apology like he was swatting a fly.
And I couldn't hear a shred of sincerity in it.
"Nigel, I'm not bringing up divorce because I'm throwing a tantrum."
"I genuinely want a divorce."
I said it again, clearly and firmly.
Nigel snapped.
"Lorraine, is something wrong with your head?"
"I work myself to the bone every single day for this family, and you want a divorce because you didn't get a seat at the dinner table?"
"Eight years together, and you're throwing it all away over one meal? Don't you think you're blowing this way out of proportion?"
His brows knotted tight, every word laced with something cruel.
"Have you worked a single day since college?"
"Two years in Seaview City, two years married here. Every cent you've ever spent, I earned. How exactly have I mistreated you?"
"Lorraine, you don't know how good you have it!"
A crack of thunder split the sky outside the window.
I didn't respond. I scrambled off the bed and rushed into the bedroom to comfort the baby.
"Shh, it's okay, sweetie. Mommy's here."
"Mommy's right here..."
You don't know how good you have it. My mother had said the same thing to me once.
Back then I didn't understand. Now I did.
"Lorraine, stay home and cool off. I'm going out to sleep somewhere else tonight."
The words hung in the air for half a second before the front door shut behind him.
I knew the "cooling off" was a lie.
He was going to Leona's.
Because Leona was afraid of thunder.
There was a time, once, when Nigel and I were in bed together, laughing, tangled up in each other.
"Nigel, I'm scared."
He'd gotten a call from Leona. "I'll be right there."
I stared at him, confused. He explained, "Leona's parents died in an accident. Struck by lightning."
"Lorraine, I need to go check on her."
I went with him.
Back then, I felt genuinely sorry for Leona. Whenever something good came my way, I thought of her too.
Later, after Nigel's father recovered, Nigel and I started planning the wedding.
Leona naturally became my maid of honor, helping me pick out everything we needed for the ceremony.
She and I grew close.
She would tell me stories about Nigel as a kid, and I loved hearing every one.
She and Nigel were close. So close that even I had my moments of doubt and jealousy.
"I'd never go for her. She's basically one of the guys."
"I've got this sweet, soft little wife already. Why would I look at anyone else?"
Whenever Nigel sensed my unease, he'd explain, he'd reassure, he'd coax me back to calm.
Hearts change.
Now, even when I brought up divorce, he still couldn't wait to rush out and be with another woman.
Within minutes, I saw Leona's post on social media.
As long as you're here, I'm not afraid of anything.
The photo showed two hands clasped together.
I recognized the mole on the ring finger. It was Nigel's.
