“He said it was a one-time mistake. He still loves me,” the girl said. “But I feel so hurt, so confused.”
Looking at her, I remembered myself years ago.
“Listen to me,” I said earnestly. “There’s no such thing as just once when it comes to cheating. It’s either zero times or countless times. If you forgive him this time, he’ll do it again. And someone who truly loves you would never hurt you like this.”
“But we’ve been together for three years. I don’t want to throw it all away,” the girl cried.
“Three years is a long time,” I said. “But if that relationship is causing you pain, it’s not worth holding on to. You have to learn to love yourself, to respect yourself. Don’t waste your youth on someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
The girl looked at me, tears glistening in her eyes. “You’re right. I know what I have to do.”
I smiled. “Good for you. You’ll meet someone better.”
Watching her walk away, I suddenly felt that my experience could help others. Perhaps that’s the meaning of pain.
It makes us grow, and it enables us to help others grow, too.
Three months later, one evening, I was closing out the register at the coffee shop when my phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
I answered, and a woman’s voice said, “Am I speaking with Miss Hannah Miller?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“This is Officer Chen from the Toronto Police Service,” she said. “We need to inform you of a situation regarding your ex-husband, Mr. Mark Evans.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Evans has been arrested for investment fraud and embezzlement,” the officer said. “According to our investigation, he has been running a Ponzi scheme for several years, with the total amount involved exceeding 20 million Canadian dollars.”
I was stunned.
“Furthermore,” the officer continued, “before his arrest, he left a letter to be delivered to you. In the letter, he states that a portion of the money he used to purchase the property in Canada came from these illegal funds. The Crown is now seizing these assets, which may involve you.”
My hand holding the phone started to tremble.
“Also,” the officer paused, “Mr. Evans stated that he never loved you, that he married you solely for money.”
The voice on the other end kept talking, but I couldn’t hear it anymore.
I looked at my phone screen and saw another call coming in. The caller ID said, “Ben.”
I hesitated for a second, told the officer, “I understand,” and hung up.
But just as I was about to answer Ben’s call, the door to the coffee shop burst open.
A strange man rushed in and stared at me.
“Hannah Miller, I’m one of Mark Evans’s creditors. You have to pay back his debt.”
I looked at the strange man before me, forcing myself to remain calm. The few remaining customers in the shop were startled by the sudden intrusion.
“Sir, please calm down,” I said, my voice as steady as I could make it. “Mark and I are divorced. His debts are not my responsibility.”
The man scoffed. “You were his wife. Don’t you know about marital debt? Mark owes me $5 million. You have to pay it back.”
“I need to see a promissory note,” I said, “and proof that this debt was incurred during our marriage and was used for our shared living expenses. Otherwise, I have no obligation to repay this debt.”
The man was taken aback, clearly not expecting this response.
Just then, Ben rushed in. He must have been worried when I didn’t answer his call.
“Hannah, are you okay?” he said, stepping in front of me to shield me from the man.
“Sir, whatever the issue is, we can discuss it calmly.”
“Who are you?” the man asked warily.
“I’m Hannah’s boyfriend,” Ben said. “Regarding the debt you mentioned, we can resolve it through legal channels. If you continue to cause a scene, I will call the police.”
The man looked at us, then at the other customers in the shop. Finally, he snorted. “Fine. We’ll see you in court.”
Leave a Comment