Chapter 1After Nine Divorces, I'm Done

I marry the same woman nine times, and she divorces me nine times for her first love.

During our first divorce, I snap and throw all her luggage out of the house.

By the fourth, I'm begging her to leave her bags behind, terrified that once she walks out, she'll never come back.

When the eighth divorce comes around, I quietly help her pack because I'm too afraid of making her angry to resist.

My anguish, my pleading, and my desperate attempts to please her always earn me the same result.

She keeps her promise to remarry me every single time, only to divorce me again just as she always does.

This time, I pack my own bags and leave on my own.

What I don't tell her is that one month from now, I'll be gone for good.

* * *

"We'll get remarried in a month."

Teresa Sloan took the divorce agreement from me as casually as she'd done every other time, offering a few reassuring words as she did.

I felt nothing as I signed the papers. I didn't even have the desire to respond to her promise.

Teresa frowned, apparently displeased by my silence, and repeated herself, "Andrew."

"Got it."

I stopped packing and turned to look at her with a resigned expression.

As one of the country's most prominent businesswomen, Teresa was known for keeping her word. Every time we divorced, she made sure to tell me exactly when we would get remarried.

She'd only ever lied to me once.

It was at our wedding, when she'd held me in her arms with tears in her eyes and said, "Now that we're married, I never want us to be apart again."

Apparently, women could lie, too.

My reaction seemed to catch her off guard.

After all, every time I'd signed the divorce papers in the past, I'd completely broken down and begged her not to leave me.

"Then, I guess I'll move out again this time—"

Teresa was still trying to find the right words when I interrupted her. "Don't bother. I'll move out. I've already packed most of my things."

Surprise flashed across her face.

The first time we divorced, I'd been so devastated that I'd thrown all her belongings out of the house.

By the fourth divorce, I'd begged her to leave her things behind because I was terrified that once she walked out the door, she'd never come back.

By the eighth, I'd learned to pack her bags without a fuss, afraid that even the slightest complaint might upset her.

I'd lost it, begged her to stay, and eventually learned to do whatever she wanted.

And what had I gotten in return?

Teresa had kept her promise to remarry me every single time, only to divorce me again as if nothing had changed.

Three days ago, she'd given me a gift. It wasn't particularly expensive, but she'd clearly put some thought into choosing it. It was a watch I'd had my eye on for a long time.

I'd forced myself to smile, even though my heart ached.

Throughout our marriage, Teresa had barely shown me any affection. Whenever she went out of her way to do something nice for me, I knew it was only a matter of time before she hurt me again.

That night, I couldn't sleep, so I secretly checked her phone while she wasn't looking.

The conversation pinned at the top was with Hansel Carter, her first love.

"I'm coming home."

Those three words from Hansel had sealed the fate of my ninth marriage to Teresa.

I tapped on another conversation, this time between Teresa and her best friend.

"Andrew is a really good guy. Don't divorce him again this time. Besides, didn't you say you were going to get over Hansel?"

Teresa's reply was brief. "I tried. I can't."

After countless sleepless nights spent nursing a broken heart, I finally felt a wave of freedom wash over me.

I shook my head, pulling myself out of the memory, and finished packing while Teresa watched me with an unreadable expression.

As I picked up my luggage and headed for the door, I was already making plans to leave Yelby for good.

Then, Teresa called after me, her tone serious.

"Andrew, we'll get remarried in a month."

I didn't answer. I simply waved to let her know I'd heard her.

What a coincidence.

I'd booked my flight out of the country for exactly one month from now.

…

After moving out, I settled into the apartment Mom had left me.

Just as she'd done after every previous divorce, Teresa never once reached out to me.

I had 20 days left before my departure.

That day, I was shopping at the mall with my childhood friend, Stephen Reed. He'd been ranting about Teresa, but after a few minutes, he cautiously brought up something else.