I never questioned my decision to marry Faith the day she turned eighteen.She needed to get out of her situation at home and, at nineteen, I already knew everything about everything, so in my mind it made perfect sense. We'd been pals for years.I loved her.She had no idea.But she was desperate for somebody to rescue her, and a marriage of convenience with me was a better - safer - choice than anything else she could find.Since I lived away at college, no one even had to know. It worked great until the end of the semester.And then she walked out.And I let her.I occasionally do some digging, just to check that she's okay. And every now and then I think about the divorce papers I drew up but never sent.Now she's here. Literally on my doorstep. Begging me, once again, for help.And I hate that I still love her.Even after fourteen years.