When my husband slapped me for not cooking because I had a 40°C fever, I signed the divorce papers. My mother-in-law yelled, “Who do you think you’re scaring? If you leave this house, you’ll end up begging on the streets!” but I responded with a single sentence that left her speechless…

The thermometer slipped from my trembling fingers and clattered against the bathroom sink. 40°C. My vision swam, my skin burned, and every muscle screamed as if I’d run a marathon in my sleep. I leaned against the wall, trying to breathe through the nausea, telling myself I just needed to lie down for a minute.
That was when I heard the front door slam.
“Where’s dinner?” my husband, Mark Reynolds, shouted from the living room.
I shuffled out, wrapped in a hoodie despite the heat radiating from my body. “Mark… I’m really sick. I have a high fever. I can’t cook tonight.”

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