However, I swallowed my disgust and pretended to be troubled. "But recently, a one-million-dollar certificate of deposit is maturing. I was planning to buy you a sports car with it. This money is from my mother, and she didn't want me to have an IUD. I don't want to use her money and upset her."
As I mentioned "sports car," Chris's eyes lit up.
He had long been eyeing the new "chick killer" sports car, but I had been holding off, worried about his reckless behavior.
Hearing me talk like this, he excitedly said, "Honey, we can't let Mom be unhappy in her grave. You should remove the IUD, but I won't get a vasectomy. I'll just use protection from now on."
He put on a face that was all about giving and taking.
I wasn't buying it. "That won't do, darling. You don't like using protection anyway. Since we don't want children, just get a vasectomy. As long as you get the vasectomy, I'll immediately go pick up the car. Deal?"
Chris's face changed repeatedly.
He wanted the car, but getting a vasectomy for it seemed like too great a sacrifice.
The female doctor noticed his hesitation, quickly filled out the forms, and waved. "Here's the form for removing the IUD. As for the vasectomy, if you take good care of it post-surgery, it might still be reversible."
Hearing this, Chris seemed to ease up.
Plus, with me constantly showing him pictures of the sports car and vividly describing how cool it would be to drive it, Chris finally relented.
I arranged for both surgeries as quickly as possible.
And I hired the best divorce lawyer to help me secure the maximum benefits.
With the lawyer in charge, I finally settled down on the operating table.
The moment the IUD was removed, I felt an unprecedented sense of relief.
In my previous life, the IUD had caused an infection in my body, and I was in excruciating pain.
And Chris, who never had any sense of moderation, never cared about me.
I only went to the hospital when I couldn't stand it any longer, only to be told by the doctor that my uterus couldn't be saved.
After the hysterectomy, my in-laws created a scene every day, and Chris also drifted away from me, hinting that my body had issues.
I was in a bad mood, and the wound healed slowly. Looking back, it was truly a dark and desolate period.
This time, I hired a caregiver specifically to look after me and declined all visitors.