Ficorpio
Chapter 1
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First Edition
My Husband Wants a Divorce Every Day
It’s been five years since we got married, and I’ve faced my share of challenges, but I’ve embraced them willingly.
To give Dominic a child, I’ve spent every day seeking medical help. I’ve visited all the renowned hospitals and top fertility specialists in the country, but to no avail. I’ve even tried various folk remedies for quick conception that I found online.
For example, after intercourse during ovulation, I would prop my legs up against the wall for fifteen minutes. I also tried eating certain foods and taking supplements thought to boost fertility.
Every day, I’ve been consumed by the thought of having a baby. Perhaps it was the overwhelming anxiety, but I was diagnosed with another condition: ovarian endometrioma.
The doctor explained it’s a common issue. If I were able to get pregnant, the problem would likely resolve on its own. However, if I didn’t conceive within six months, I would need surgery to reduce the risk of cancer.
The surgery itself isn’t particularly dangerous, with an almost 100% success rate. The real challenge comes afterward—the chances of having a child after the procedure are nearly zero.
After learning that I was married but had no children, the doctor advised me: “You should try to get pregnant soon. Have a baby as early as possible.”
The urgency in those words—“hurry,” “as soon as possible”—left me breathless.
After calming down a bit, I called my husband, Dominic. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up.
“Are you coming home for dinner tonight?”
“I have a client meeting. Go ahead and eat without me.”
“I need to talk to you about—”
Before I could finish, he hung up.
Quietly, I slipped my phone back into my bag and drove home alone.
Haven’t I grown used to this kind of treatment? Then why does it still hurt so much? Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.
Five years ago, on his deathbed, my father entrusted me to Dominic. He doesn’t love me, but I thought I could make him fall in love with me through effort.
But the truth is, marrying a man who doesn’t love you means everything you do is just to comfort yourself.
At 11:42 PM, Dominic came home.
I immediately got up from the couch and went to greet him. “You’re back. I made some hangover soup for you. Have a little.”
“I didn’t have anything to drink today.”
“Oh.”
He changed his shoes and took off his watch as I stood quietly nearby, watching him. This is my husband, the man I love. We’ve lived together for five years, and my heart still flutters every time I look at him.
Slowly, I walked over to him, slipped my arm through his, and leaned in affectionately. “Honey, let’s start a family.”
Chapter 2
He fell silent for a long time after hearing what I said.
This time, instead of turning away as usual, he looked me straight in the eye and said solemnly, “She’s back.”
I was stunned.
My hand slipped from his arm. Before I could collect myself, he added, “Jasmine, let’s get a divorce.”
Divorce? I smiled bitterly.
This was the third time he’d brought up divorce.
On the third anniversary of my parents’ passing, he thought I had finally calmed down and moved past the shadow of their fatal car accident. Or maybe he just couldn’t stand me anymore. That was the first time he seriously mentioned divorce.
But I refused. I had gone to great lengths to make him marry me—how could I just let go so easily? So, I managed to get a medical report diagnosing me with depression and showed it to him. He’s a responsible and principled man. I manipulated him, and in doing so, kept him by my side for another two years.
The second time was last month. He found out my depression was a lie and brought up divorce again. In desperation, I threatened to take my own life and ended up in the hospital. But he remained cold and distant, never once coming to see me.
This is the third time he’s brought up divorce, as if he can’t wait another moment.
I still refused. “I won’t agree to a divorce.”
He looked at me with a heavy gaze and said, “Jasmine, we’ve been married for five years. From the very beginning, I never loved you. This isn’t the kind of marriage I wanted.”
“If five years isn’t enough, then ten. If ten years isn’t enough, then twenty…”
“I don’t want to waste another five or ten years with you. What’s the point of two people with no feelings staying together?”
“Please consider my proposal carefully. Your life will remain unaffected after the divorce. All properties in our names will be transferred to you. I recommend you retain the 25% company shares. The annual dividends will be regularly deposited into your account by the finance department. Feel free to make any requests you may have.”
Finally, he said, “If you insist on not getting a divorce, I’ll file a lawsuit.”
Dominic took over the company my father left behind. My father originally held 25% of the shares, and even after several rounds of financing, my stake remained undiluted. Through his actions, he made it clear: he could give me everything except love.
But from the moment I first saw him at university when I was eighteen, all I ever wanted was his love.
I stood behind him and asked, “Are you really considering a divorce just because she’s back? Wake up. So many years have passed—how much of your feelings for her could possibly remain?”
“The love I have for her is as deep as the love you have for me.” With those words, he walked straight into the guest room.
It was the cruelest thing I had ever heard him say, sharp as a knife through my heart. I sank to the floor, my mind reeling.
In the middle of the night, I curled up on the sofa, listening quietly to the sounds coming from the guest room—the shower running, him getting into bed. In my mind, I could even picture the steady rhythm of his breathing.
When we slept together, I loved to slip my arm around his waist while he was asleep, resting my head against his broad shoulder. If he turned over, I’d end up tucked securely beneath him, our bodies fitting together perfectly.
In those moments, I was so happy, filled with a quiet, secret joy.
Most of the time, he would simply push my hand away. But I stubbornly snuggled up to him again and again. After I rolled off the bed a few times, he gave up resisting and let me cling to him.
Late at night, when the guest room fell silent, I quietly opened the door and slipped into his bed.
Chapter 3
Dominic was fast asleep. I lay down gently beside him, pressing my face against his shoulder, breathing in his scent. My hands began to wander restlessly over his body.
He woke up. This time, he didn’t indulge me. Instead, he pushed me away firmly and sat up in bed.
I moved closer, trying to stir his desire.
“Jasmine, stop it.”
Of course, I didn’t listen. My hand drifted lower as I whispered, “Honey, I’ve missed you.”
I felt his body respond—his skin grew warm, his breathing heavy.
Even so, he pushed me away with remarkable self-control.
“I’ll sleep in the study.” He stood up and left.
I ran after him and wrapped my arms around him from behind, whispering softly, “Darling, please give me a child?”
Having a child has been my greatest desire throughout our five years of marriage.
Because I love him.
In the darkness, he pushed me away firmly and coldly. “Jasmine, give it up. I will never have a child with you.”
With that, he went straight to the study. Then, I heard the door lock.
My heart ached. Clutching my hand over my mouth, I collapsed onto the bed and wept silently.
The next morning, his footsteps were light, but I woke up instantly.
Seeing him with a suitcase, ready to leave, I grew anxious.
“Dominic, are you going on a business trip? Or are you moving out?”
“Yes. Think carefully about divorce. Before you do anything rash, remember your parents. They gave their lives to save you because they wanted you to live well.”
With that, Dominic left without giving me a chance to respond.
He’s just as cold to me as ever. But the man I once knew was never like this. Dominic is an orphan my father has supported since he was a child. The first time I saw him, he was wearing a white shirt and greeted me with a smile. It felt as if he carried a light within him—one that shone on the seed in my heart, letting it bloom little by little.
I was captivated at first sight, and my heart was stirred by him.
I’m an impulsive person—when I like someone, I go after them. I came up with all kinds of reasons and excuses to see him, to stay close to him, but he always kept his distance.
He was kind to me, but only in the way an older brother is kind to a younger sister. He never acknowledged my feelings.
Later, my parents were in a car accident. I was in the car with them at the time. They gave me the last chance to survive, but they never made it out.
I was left all alone in the world. Dominic stayed only because I forced him to, using the debt of gratitude he owed my parents.
But I don’t regret it. What would my life mean without him?