Just as Dwayne was about to explode with anger, I spoke in a hoarse voice, "Dwayne, let’s get a divorce."
Dwayne froze, stunned. It seemed he couldn’t believe that I, who had always been devoted to him and the children, would ask for a divorce.
He looked at me impatiently and snapped, "Have you had enough trouble?"
I remained calm and replied, "I’m not making trouble. Let’s get a divorce."
As I spoke, I took out the divorce agreement I had just prepared. Its terms offered a fair and reasonable division for Dwayne.
Only then did he realize I was serious. His temper flared as he glared at me, saying, "Didn’t I just spend some money on you? I’ve already paid it back! I’ve already explained why I didn’t go to the hospital. What are you still fussing about?"
"Annie is just a girl—she couldn’t handle those things on her own. I only went to help! If you insist on holding on to this, then I don’t know what else to do!"
Annie appeared again, looking fragile and innocent, as if I were the one who had caused all the problems.
I repeated firmly, my tone resolute, "Dwayne, I want to divorce you."
Dwayne’s face darkened further, and finally, resorting to his usual tactic, he stormed out of the house.