My parents soon heard the whole story from her.
They stormed into the hotel, disappointment written all over their faces.
"Xavier, how could you do something like this? If word gets out, where will our family's reputation go?
"Ariella is a good girl, and you were the one in the wrong. If you can stay together, great. If not... don't mistreat her. We owe her that much."
Their words made me so ashamed, I couldn't even lift my head.
I was their only son. When I married Ariella, her family demanded an outrageous dowry of fifty thousand.
My parents didn't hesitate and gave up their entire savings.
They even helped with the down payment on our house.
All they wanted was for us to have a happy life together.
And now, not even a year later, we were already talking about divorce.
And it was all my fault.
Unable to vent my frustration, I called up a friend to drink away my sorrows.
I hardly ever drank, and I could count the number of times I'd gotten drunk on one hand. But, of course, the one time I did, it caused this mess.
Alcohol really does ruin things.
My friend saw me sit down, looking miserable, downing one drink after another, and couldn't help but ask, "Man, what's going on?"