My ex-husband and I were each other’s first love. We dated for 3 years and were married for 3 years.

In the early days of our relationship, everything was wonderful. We argued quite a bit, but he was always the one to back down first. I remember very clearly, once I was sulking for no reason, and he stood outside my house all evening just to say one thing:

– I’m sorry, even though I don’t understand why you’re angry, but I don’t want to lose you.

At that time, I felt loved and valued, and I naively thought that feeling would last forever, so I went ahead with the marriage.

After getting married, he threw himself into work. The newly established company left him with almost no time for his family.

I reproached him for forgetting our wedding anniversary, my birthday, and even the little things I considered important. Every time I complained, he just sighed.

– I’m doing all this for our future, don’t overthink it.

But I didn’t listen. I just felt abandoned.

My boyfriend and I dated for three years before getting married. (Illustrative image)

When I was pregnant, I hoped he would change, that he would spend more time with the family. But things remained the same. I started to doubt him, started to control him, started checking his phone, monitoring his every move.

We argued constantly. And during one argument, shortly after our daughter turned one month old, I said something that would haunt me for the rest of my life:

– Let’s get a divorce.

Previously, just mentioning the word “divorce” would send him frantically trying to comfort me. But this time, he was silent for a long time before saying:

– If that’s what you really want, then let’s get a divorce.

Those words were like a knife cutting through everything. We really did get divorced.

After the divorce, I took my daughter and left, filled with anger and resentment. I swore I would never see him again. Yet he still came to visit us, still asked about us, still suggested we get back together. I cursed him mercilessly and kicked him out of my life.

And indeed, he didn’t show up again. For over six months, he hasn’t visited my daughter and me, only the money for my daughter’s living expenses has arrived on time every month.

My anger gradually subsided. On nights when my child was fast asleep, I would think of him, remembering the happy days we had shared. I began to wonder if I had been too selfish, too impulsive.

On nights when my child is fast asleep, I think of him, remembering the happy days we once shared. (Illustrative image)

One evening, after much thought, I picked up my phone and, trembling, sent him a message:

– I agree to remarry.

The message was sent, but there was no reply. I tried to comfort myself by thinking that maybe he was busy or still angry with me.

The next day, my bank account showed a large sum of 3 billion VND. I was stunned because the sender was my ex-husband. I called him repeatedly but he didn’t answer, and I didn’t get a reply to my messages either. A feeling of unease overwhelmed me, prompting me to go to his parents’ house.

When his mother saw me, she burst into tears. His father, his voice choked with emotion, said:

– He’s gone… Six months ago, the doctor said he had terminal liver cancer.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. It turned out that all this time, he had been silently enduring his illness, silently withdrawing from my life, leaving only money and peace for me and our child.

My ex-husband’s parents said that he didn’t dare come to see me because he was afraid of bothering me, afraid of hurting my feelings. He always regretted not spending enough time with his family, always saying the same thing:

– I just hope she and the little girl live well, that’s all I want.

That 3 billion VND was the money he left behind, entrusted to me by his parents after the funeral arrangements were completed. Looking at his photo, I cried silently. I regretted not giving him a chance to explain, regretted my stubbornness, and regretted saying the word “divorce” so easily.

Now, every time I recall that unanswered message, “I agree to remarry,” my heart aches. There are people we only realize how much they loved us after we lose them. But sadly, life doesn’t have the words “what if.”