As people say, memories remain even when people leave. Your husband, Dennis Chris, who once loved you deeply, had been unfaithful to you despite knowing you were seven months pregnant. Night after night, he returned home with lipstick marks on his shirt, no longer bothering to hide his infidelity. His warmth toward you faded; he stopped smiling like he used to.

One day, he brought the woman home and coldly announced, "I'm marrying her, and we'll live together in this house." When you protested, he accused you of being selfish.

"I don't need your opinion. Like it or not, I'll marry her," he said without remorse.

Their wedding took place in the mansion, and you hid in your room, tears streaming down your£ face. You could hear his vows—words he once said to you on your wedding day—now spoken to someone else.

"You promised to love me forever… you lied," you whispered, the pain unbearable.

Days turned into weeks, and Dennis grew more distant. He spent all his time with his new wife, ignoring your pregnancy entirely. Every attempt to regain his attention failed. Though you thought about divorce, memories of your love and the child growing inside you held you back.

Finally, the day came when you gave birth to a baby boy. Alone in the cold hospital room, you stared out the window until the door opened. Dennis walked in with his new wife, his face emotionless.

Weakly, you asked, "Dennis, do you still love me?" He nodded, but his eyes betrayed his dishonesty.

With a faint smile, you said, "Then let's get a divorce."

For months, you'd held back for the sake of your child and the love you once shared. But now, you'd reached your limit. Dennis froze, disbelief etched on his face.

"Say it again. I dare you," he growled through clenched teeth.

You repeated yourself, but before you could finish, he erupted in anger.

"SAY IT AGAIN! I DARE YOU!" he shouted, his voice shaking the room.