**Diary Entry**
The first time he pushed me off the bed, I told myself it was an accident—but now, I’m filing for divorce.
In a small town near York, where winter winds howl like omens of sorrow, my life—once bright with dreams of happiness—has become a nightmare. My name is Emily, I’m 27, and just a month ago, I married James. But what happened on our first New Year’s together was the final straw. My heart aches with pain and resolve as I make the hardest decision of my life.
**A Fairy Tale Turned Nightmare**
When I met James, I truly believed I’d found my soulmate. He was charming, attentive, with a spark in his eyes. We dated for a year, every day filled with laughter and plans. He promised me a family, a cosy home, children—I believed him wholeheartedly. Our wedding was small but warm, surrounded by loved ones. I felt on top of the world. But within a week, I began noticing unsettling changes in him—little things I brushed off as stress or exhaustion.
The first red flag came when he shoved me away drunkenly at a pub night with friends. I chalked it up to the drink, told myself it wouldn’t happen again. Yet it did. His warmth vanished, replaced by cold indifference. His hugs felt hollow, his words sharp. I convinced myself it was just the adjustment period. But New Year’s Day shattered that illusion.
**The Nightmare of January First**
On New Year’s Eve, we celebrated alone. I cooked a proper roast, decorated the flat, imagining this as the start of our happy life together. James was in high spirits, laughing over champagne. But by midnight, he was drinking heavily, his mood turning dark. When I suggested going to bed, he snapped, “Don’t ruin this for me.” I retreated to the bedroom, hoping he’d calm down.
At dawn, I woke to a violent shove. James—bloodshot-eyed, reeking of whiskey—swept me off the bed. I hit the floor hard, pain shooting through me, but worse were his words: “You’re in my way. Get up and make yourself useful.” I froze. This wasn’t the man I’d married. When I tried to speak, he just turned away.
**The Truth That Broke Me**
That wasn’t an isolated incident. In a month of marriage, I saw James for who he truly was—his “accidental” shoves, cruel jabs, the way he dismissed my feelings. He’d humiliate me in front of friends, calling me “useless” if dinner wasn’t perfect. He expected me to mould myself around him, my desires irrelevant. At 27, I felt like a hollow shell.
My mum, Margaret, wept when I told her. She begged me to endure: “Marriage takes work, love—give him time.” But how do you stay with someone who doesn’t respect you? I tried talking to James, but he just laughed. “You’re too dramatic,” he’d say. His indifference was the final blow.
**The Choice That Will Save Me**
Yesterday, I made my decision—I’m filing for divorce. It terrifies me. At 27, I never imagined being alone, my dreams in ruins. But staying with someone who erodes me is worse. I refuse to live in fear, wondering if the next shove will be harder. I won’t wake up each day regretting my life.
My friends support me, though some echo Mum: “What if he changes?” But I know the truth—James won’t change. The mask slipped, and I saw him clearly. I deserve love, respect, safety. Even if it means whispers behind my back, I choose myself.
**A Step Into the Unknown**
Divorce isn’t the end—it’s a beginning. Maybe I’ll finally pursue interior design, or travel like I always wanted. I’m young. This pain is the price of freedom, and I’ll pay it. James thought he could break me, but he was wrong. I’m not his victim—I’m a woman who knows her worth.
I married with love, but I’m leaving with strength. That January morning was a nightmare, but it gave me clarity. No one will push me—off a bed, or out of my own life—ever again. I choose me.
