
My corpus luteum ruptured, and my life hung by a thread. My husband, however, was in the adjacent hospital room, meticulously caring for the "white moonlight" of his heart, who just had a cold. My heart finally died. I slammed a divorce agreement in front of him and resolutely walked away. …… Later, as suitors blossomed around me, he was driven mad with jealousy. He tried every trick in the book to cut off my romantic prospects, grabbing my wrist domineeringly, “Holly Sinclair, I never signed the divorce papers. You are still my wife. You dare to cheat on me? Just you try!” And then, pinning me in a dark corner, he whimpered his confession in my ear, “Wifey, I was wrong. Please don't leave me. You are the real white moonlight of my heart…”