Before I knew it, hashtags like “Leeching Cousin,” “Poisonous Relative,” and “Public Transport” (a disgusting label implying I was ‘used by everyone’) flooded the internet.
As the live streams spread, the people surrounding me grew more hostile. The emotions of the onlookers were also pushed up and they couldn't help but start throwing eggs and rotten vegetable leaves at me. Some of those who were eating nearby even directly smashed the beer bottles in their hands in front of me.
As if I were a lamb to the slaughter, I stood in a pile of garbage and was subjected to a lot of verbal abuse.
And then, through the jeering crowd, a familiar face appeared—my husband, Daniel Summers.
Seeing him, my heart swelled with hope. Daniel had been my rock for years, always there to support and soothe me when I hurt. He was my refuge, my safe harbour. I stumbled towards him, desperate to fall into his arms and find solace. But just as I reached him, he pushed me away—hard.
Caught off guard, I lost my centre of gravity and fell directly backwards onto the ground, shards of glass from broken bottles digging into my palms and legs. Pain surged through me, but my heart, however, was stabbed deeper and hurt more.
Even Daniel does not believe me anymore?
“Sophie,” he began, his voice laced with disappointment and disgust. “I never imagined you could be like this.”
His words hit me like a slap. “I’ve treated you like a treasure for years, fulfilling your every wish. I’ve never once raised my voice at you, never let you feel a single moment of suffering. When your health was poor, I learned how to make nutritious meals for you, care for you and even keep you warm at night so you wouldn’t catch a cold. And how do you repay me? By leeching off your cousin, gambling and ruining your reputation—and mine.”
“The body I worked so hard to nurture, you’ve thrown away in disgusting, shameful acts. You’re not just degrading yourself, Sophie—you’re trampling on our marriage.”
Daniel, always the gentle soul, was now shouting at me, his voice cracking with disappointment. His words stung more than the physical pain in my legs.
I opened my mouth to explain, but Daniel slapped me across the face before I could speak.
“Don’t you dare say my name,” he seethed, “you don’t deserve to.”
Then, without hesitation, he pulled off his wedding ring and threw it at my feet.
“We’re getting a divorce.”