What Is The Success Rate Of Alcoholics Anonymous?

Treated like a piece of trash by her husband whom she was forced into an arranged marriage with, Aliya tried to make her marriage work, despite her husband's cruel attitude toward her. She thought she could eventually change his mind from hating her, however, she realized along the line that some things are better left the way they are, to avoid destruction. Since she couldn't keep up with her husband promiscuous lifestyle and hurting her emotionally, Aliya decided to escape from this hell of a marriage when she was pregnant, but things changed with her husband as soon as she left, as the young man realized he couldn't do without her. Will she come back to the man that treated her like a piece of trash before? Will she find happiness and peace in her marriage even if she decided to come back?

We were once best friends, a CEO, and his secretary. Then, one night changed everything. Dominic was drunk and grieving after he lost his father, and I happened to be available when he needed an outlet. He pinned me against the wall and ravaged me. That night, I lost a friend and my first. The next morning, he accused me of taking advantage of him while he was drunk, and somehow, I couldn't defend myself. The board forced him to marry me, and that intensified his hatred for me. " This is another one of your schemes, right?" he had asked, hands trembling as he signed the marriage certificate. A few weeks into the marriage, and he started sending divorce, one after another. But I kept on tearing them, because I wanted a complete family for our daughter.. But she is now diagnosed with a terminal illness.. With nothing left, I make one final request: Thirty days… before the divorce. Thirty days for my daughter to have a father. Thirty days before we disappear from his life... But the truth shatters everything. I was innocent, he finds out. And the woman he broke? Not just an orphan… I am a lost heiress. Now he wants me back. But this time, I am the one walking away. He has to earn it... or I might as well accept the man my newfound brothers chose for me.

The seventh time Claire Fisher bailed on our marriage license appointment, I finally cut her out of my life—for good. From then on, if she was at a party, I wasn't. When she was scheduled to perform at our college's anniversary celebration, I made sure to leave early. The moment my company announced a collaboration with hers, I resigned without a second thought. Even on Christmas Eve, when she showed up at my parents' house with gifts, I slipped out with a half-hearted excuse about "visiting a friend." I blocked her number. Deleted her from my contacts. Burned every bridge and salted the earth behind me. No calls. No texts. No social media. I didn't reach out. She couldn't reach me. Simple as that. For the better part of my life, I was hopelessly in love with her—waiting on her, caring for her, putting her first in every way that mattered. I gave her all of me without ever holding back. But after the seventh time she left me sitting alone at the City Hall, something inside me broke. I was done. If that meant spending the rest of my life alone, so be it. Better that than sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the silence, holding on to hope for someone who never planned to show up.

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.

After losing a bet to her adopted younger brother, Peter Conroy, my wife, Ruth Davis, divorced me for the ninth time. I had told her then that if we remarried for a tenth time and divorced again, I would marry someone else. She only laughed and said, “Will, you even donated part of your liver to me. How could you possibly marry anyone else? Besides, apart from me, who would want to marry a broke loser like you?” On the day of our tenth remarriage press conference, Peter left her a key to a beach house and made a bet with her. If she could find him in three hours, he would stay and wish us a lifetime of happiness. The moment Ruth saw the key, her expression turned hesitant. She tore up the remarriage statement and ran off without hesitation. Three hours later, Peter posted a photo on social media. They were lying on a bed in the beach house and admiring the ocean view. I read the caption. [If someone really cares about you, they will cross mountains and seas just to find you.] Without telling Ruth, I withdrew the remarriage application and made a call I had not made in a very long time. “Julienne, is your proposal from back then still valid?” Her voice trembled with barely restrained excitement. “For you, it’ll always be valid.”

Alexander Morrison doesn't love me, nor does he love our daughter. The only person he loves is his first love, Charlotte Clarke. To maintain his perfect image in Charlotte's eyes, he only allows our daughter to call him "Uncle Alex". This continues until Charlotte becomes pregnant and goes abroad to marry someone else. Alexander drinks himself into oblivion and finally decides to marry me. When he comes home, our daughter gives him 100 forgiveness coupons. I tell him that once those 100 coupons are used up, I'll take our daughter and leave him forever. He holds us both tightly in his arms, swearing he will never make us sad again. During the initial few years of our secret marriage, he indeed does exceptionally well, as not a single coupon is used. That is, until Charlotte returns to the country with her daughter. Every time he abandons me and our daughter for Charlotte and her child, I tear off one forgiveness coupon. Now, only three coupons remain.