I Turned Away from My Parents Because of My Wife
At forty-four, I look back on a childhood many would envy. My parents were kind and devotedboth doctors with thriving practices in a quaint town near Oxfordand my brother was my closest friend from boyhood to manhood. Ours was a home filled with warmth and laughter, a picture of contentment. Yet all of this crumbled the moment she entered my lifethe woman who turned my world upside down and shattered it in the end.
I met Eleanor in my first year at university. She was my opposite in every way, like night and day. Her childhood had been spent in an orphanage until she was adopted at eleven, only for her adoptive parents to divorce soon after. Eleanor stayed with her mother, who spiralled into alcoholism, while her father faded from her life. Hers was a story of hardship, but she foughtwith an iron will and relentless determination. She worked two jobs to put herself through university, studying late into the night, and graduated with honours. That strength captivated me.
At first, our love felt like a fairy taleuntil I brought her home to meet my parents. Eleanor, raised in poverty, eyed our comfortable house with barely concealed disdain. She said nothing then, but later, in the heat of an argument, she spat at us, calling us “snobbish rich folk living in a dreamworld.” The words struck like lightning, but I swallowed my pride, blaming her bitterness on her past. We weathered that storm, though the cracks had already begun to show.
Before our wedding, I mentioned that my parents wished to pay for the celebration. Eleanor erupted like a tempest: “I won’t owe them a single penny!” Her voice shook with fury, and I struggled to calm her. In secret, I spoke to my parents, who, wanting no conflict, discreetly transferred the money to me. I never told Eleanor. The wedding was splendid, and she wore pride like a crown, believing we had done it all ourselves. I kept silent, afraid to break the illusion.
When we learned we were expecting a daughter, my parents were overjoyed. One day, they arrived with tiny dresses and little booties. I braced for anger, but Eleanor surprised me with a smile and thanksuntil the door closed behind them. Then, cold as frost, she said, “No more charity from your parents.” I couldnt bring myself to tell themtheir happiness was too pure to spoil. When they asked what we needed, I lied, saying we had everything.
The storm broke before the birth. My parents arrived unannounced with an expensive pramthe very one we had admired in the shop. Eleanor paled: “Its vulgar extravagancetake it back!” Words flew like daggers. She screamed, hurled insults, and I stood frozen, stunned. The visit ended in chaos, and the stress sent Eleanor into early labour. And who did she blame? My parents. “This is their fault!” she raged. For the first time, I fought back: “Youre wrongthey did nothing!”
Then came her ultimatum, cruel as a judges sentence. Choose her and our daughtercut all ties with my parents and brother, refuse even a penny from themor divorce, and lose my child forever. My heart split in two. What could I do? I chose my wife and daughter, turning my back on the family who had given me everything. I rejected my parents love, the inheritance that might have eased our lives. We moved away, far from the past.
Twelve years have passed. Twelve years without my mothers voice, my fathers embrace, my brothers laughter. I teach at a school now, counting every pound at months end. We live modestly, almost poorly, because Eleanor despises taking help. When I look at her, I no longer see the girl whose resilience once inspired me. Now I see only angershe hates the world, blames everyone for her unhappiness. What I once loved in her has become a slow poison.
I think of divorce. Our children are older now, and I hope they might understand why I cant go on like this. I was wrong about Eleanorterribly, irrevocably wrong. The pride I mistook for strength was venom, poisoning everything it touched. Now I stand amid the ruins of my life, asking myself: how could I have been so blind? How could I have forsaken my family for a woman who despises even the shadow of happiness?
