What Does 'I Left For Seven Years They Never Asked I Came Back Married' Mean?

I gave him nine years. Nine years of stretching every coin, raising our son alone, sleeping on my side of the bed because I could not bring myself to take his. Nine years of telling Dave his father was working hard so they could have a better life. I believed it myself. Until I saw him on a public street with his hand on another woman’s waist, looking at her the way I spent nine years waiting for him to look at me. When he crossed the pavement it was not to apologise. It was to tell me she was his wife. Six months married. He told me to keep things calm, walked back to her, and introduced me as his cousin. The divorce papers came that same night. I needed a job immediately. For my son. For the bills that would not wait for me to finish falling apart. So I pulled myself together the way I always do and kept moving. I did not expect Mac Harlow. I did not expect him to run three blocks to return my dropped folder or offer me a job despite his sister’s calls to have me removed. I did not expect his daughter to find my son within ten minutes and decide they were already family. I did not expect to discover that the man I was starting to trust was connected to everything I was trying to leave behind. He did not know. I believe that. But Marshall knows now that someone else sees what he threw away. And he wants it back. He is nine years too late. Mac is looking at me like I am worth staying for. Not fixing. Not managing. Staying for. I spent nine years being someone’s afterthought. Never again.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Seven days before my wedding with Giuliano Corleone, the heir of the Corleone family, I find out that I'm pregnant. At that moment, I receive a text from an unknown number. "Mommy, please abort me. I'll get born with crippled legs, meaning I won't be able to stand up for the rest of my life. You and Daddy will keep fighting every day because of me until all of your love is reduced to hate. In the end, you'll get overwhelmed by the pain and get afflicted with severe depression, which will lead to you taking your own life by overdosing on pills. I don't want to see you living in that hell ever again." I immediately head over to the hospital to go through a medically-induced abortion without any hesitation. When Giuliano realizes what I've done, he's furious, to say the least. He yells at me, demands answers from me, and vents all of his rage on me. Finally, he stomps out of the ward and slams the door on me. By the time I return to Giuliano's heavily-guarded estate, I can hear Eva Bianchi's loud, malicious laughter ringing from within. "How is it possible for such foolish women to exist in this world? To think that she actually believed the text came from her child from seven years in the future! "I can't believe that she actually got rid of her unborn baby because of a fabricated text!" With a poker face, Giuliano warns Eva, "I'll let this incident slide. If you dare bully and humiliate Elena again in the future, I will never let you off the hook." I stand outside the closed door, feeling eerily calm. There will never be a next time. I know that the so-called text from the future is fake. But the thing is, I've also gotten reborn from seven years in the future, where I've gotten my heart shattered.

I'd been married to my lawyer husband for eight years. In all that time, he never once acknowledged me as his wife in public. He wouldn't even let our daughter call him "Dad." Again and again, he missed out on her childhood because of his childhood sweetheart. Even when she hurt our daughter, he still forgave her. I was worn out and empty. So I decided to leave. I took our daughter and vanished from his world. But he refused the divorce. He started searching for us like a madman, turning the whole world upside down. Only this time, neither my daughter nor I will be looking back.

I married the same man nine times. And each time, he left me for his first love, divorcing me nine times as well. The first time we parted, I lost control and threw all his belongings out the door. By the fourth divorce, I begged him to leave his luggage behind out of fear he might never return. The eighth time, I had learned to obediently pack his things, careful not to upset him. My breakdowns, my pleas, and my obedience always brought him back to me. Each time, he honored his promises. And each time, we divorced again, just like before. Until this time. This time, I packed my own things and left without telling him. A month from now, I will be gone for good.

I was sent abroad to work. After three years, I finally helped my fiancee secure a highly challenging and significant client. When I returned home, she drove me out of the house. Her eyes gleamed with disdain as she looked at me while carrying a child. “I’ve got a husband and a child. You went abroad and left me all alone for three years. How could you come back to me? You’d better come to your senses and resign from the company tomorrow!” She trampled upon my dignity and love. Then, I realized that our five-year romance had come to an end.

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.