My wife is one person in public and someone entirely different at home.
I’ve decided to share my pain, a pain that hasn’t subsided for years.
My wife is a woman with two faces. In public, she is charming, courteous, and radiant. But as soon as we step through the door of our home, she transforms into a completely different person.
When we are out, she smiles, speaks softly, and generously offers compliments. Polite, kind, and helpful—everyone admires her.
Friends envy me, saying, “What a dream wife you have!”
Yet, I feel like shouting.
Because nobody sees how she behaves behind closed doors.
A different reality behind closed doors
At home, everything changes.
She speaks to me harshly, as if I’m not her husband but some sort of servant.
She berates me over trivial matters: if a plate is in the wrong place, if I arrive home at a different hour, or if I forget to pick something up from the shop.
Her most affectionate term for me is “fool” or “simpleton.”
I don’t even dare to wish for a compliment or kind word from her.
I remember her differently
Sometimes I ask myself: why do I put up with this?
But then I recall how she was when we first started dating.
Back then, she was the most gentle, caring, and feminine woman.
She gazed at me with loving eyes, her voice was tender, and she had a way of lifting my spirits and instilling confidence.
At that time, I believed I had found my happiness.
But perhaps I was just a “stranger” to her back then.
Now, with her sure that I won’t leave, the masks have come off.
An attempt to leave
One day, I decided to teach her a lesson.
I packed my belongings, took the children, and went to my sister’s place.
When she returned home to find us gone, fear took hold of her. She immediately began calling me, trying to find out where we were and what had happened.
The children later told me how she wandered around the house, unable to settle. Her hands trembled, and she looked bewildered.
She called all our friends, her voice tinged with panic.
When I finally answered the phone, she was crying.
“Come back,” was all she said.
I returned.
That night, she didn’t let go of my hand for a moment.
The next morning, she promised that everything would change. That she would be kinder and that I would hear warm words from her again.
I believed her.
But as soon as life returned to its usual rhythm, everything repeated itself.
Resign or leave?
It’s shameful to admit, but I don’t know what to do next.
Leave?
Yes, but at present, we have food in the house, the fridge is always stocked, bills are paid, and the children are well-fed and dressed.
Stay?
But then I would be forced to live in a world devoid of warmth, affection, or even basic respect.
Perhaps I am destined to live without love.
But maybe that is the lesser of two evils.
