I severed ties with my parents because of my wife.
Im 44 and grew up in a family many would envy. My caring parentsboth doctors with their own clinics in a small village near Manchesterand my brother, my closest friend from childhood through adolescence. It was a picture-perfect life, filled with warmth and support. But everything changed when she came into my worldthe woman who turned it upside down and eventually tore it apart.
I met Emily during my first year at university. She was my complete opposite, like night and day. Her childhood had been spent in an orphanage until she was adopted at 11. But happiness was short-livedher adoptive parents divorced, and Emily stayed with her mother, who soon fell into alcoholism. Her relationship with her father nearly vanished. Life had been a struggle, yet she pushed onwith iron will and fierce determination to rise above her past. After college, she worked two jobs to pay her way, studying late into the night, and graduated with honours. That strength fascinated me.
Our relationship began like a fairy taleuntil I brought her home. Emily, whod grown up with hardship, looked at our comfortable house with thinly veiled disdain. She said nothing then, but later, in the heat of an argument, she shouted that we were pretentious, out-of-touch snobs living in a fantasy world. Her words hit me like a bolt of lightning, but I swallowed my pride, blaming it on her difficult past. We got past it, though a crack had already begun to form.
Before the wedding, I mentioned that my parents wanted to pay for the ceremony. Emily flew into a rage: “I wont owe them anything!” Her voice shook with fury, and I didnt know how to calm her. Secretly, I spoke to my parents, and to avoid conflict, they discreetly gave me the money. I never told Emily. The wedding was beautiful, and she was proud, believing wed done it all ourselves, proving our independence. I stayed silent, afraid to shatter her illusion.
When we learned we were having a daughter, my parents were overjoyed. One day, they brought baby clothestiny dresses and booties. I braced for a storm, but Emily surprised me by smiling and thanking them. Yet the moment they left, she said coldly, “No more gifts from your parents.” I didnt dare tell my mum and dadtheir excitement for their granddaughter was so genuine, I couldnt bear to dampen it. When they asked what we needed, I lied, saying wed already bought everything.
But the storm broke before the birth. My parents arrived unannounced with a brand-new pramthe expensive one wed seen in the shop. Emily turned pale: “This is needless luxurytake it back!” Words flew, erupting into a row. She screamed insults while I stood there, stunned. The visit ended in chaos, and soon after, she went into early labour. And who did she blame? My parents! She said the stress they caused was responsible. For the first time, I argued back: “Youre wrongits not their fault!”
Then she forced a choice on meharsh, like a sentence. Either stay with her and our daughter but cut off my parents and brother completely, refusing even a penny from them, or divorceand never see my little girl again. My heart shattered; blood pounded in my temples. What could I do? I chose my wife and daughter, turning my back on the family whod loved me unconditionally. I gave up my parents affection, the inheritance that couldve secured our future. We moved to another city, away from the past.
For twelve years, I havent heard my mothers voice, hugged my father, or laughed with my brother. I teach at a school, and each month is a scramble to make ends meet. We live frugally, nearly in poverty, because Emily despises help. I look at her and barely recognise the woman who once inspired me with her resilience. Now all I see is bitternessshe hates the world, blaming everyone for her life not measuring up. The qualities I once admired have curdled into something toxic, eating away at me.
I think of divorce. The children are older now, and I hope theyll understand why I cant go on like this. I was wrong about Emilyterribly, irreparably wrong. Her pride, which I mistook for strength, turned out to be poison, tainting everything. Now I stand amid the wreckage of my life, asking myself: how could I have been so blind? How could I abandon my family for a woman who cant even stand the shadow of happiness?
