Chapter 7 — I Didn’t Marry a Damaged Woman

Three weeks later, Lars walked into my rehabilitation room carrying divorce papers.

He looked at my bandaged arms — at the wreckage he had made — and he sneered.

“I didn’t marry a damaged woman.”

He wanted the marriage dissolved and the house sold, to pay what he called our joint debts.

I looked at him, this man who had burned me and was now recoiling from the burns, and I did not argue.