The End! For 16 years, he belittled me, and I endured it… Until this spring, everything changed… I never thought anything could shake up the mire I’d been living in for so long.
Hope had long left me.
At 22, I got married, believing I’d found the one I’d spend my life with. Emily was everything to me, captivating me with a kind of magic. I was so blinded by her allure that even her quirks seemed charming.
Like her habit of flinging open the window in the dead of winter and ripping off the blanket to wake me at dawn.
Or her favorite “joke” — making me spin around in front of friends like a model on display for purchase.
She made all the decisions for me.
Chose where I’d work.
Decided where we’d vacation.
Determined which friends I could keep and which I had to cut out.
And I allowed it.
Because I thought that was how love worked.
I was blind.
I believed a child would change everything… As our marriage started to fall apart, I genuinely hoped a baby would save us.
I was wrong.
Emily abandoned me in this struggle.
She didn’t care about my fears or concerns or the fact that doctors gave us no hope.
She easily accepted that she already had kids from her first marriage, so we might not have any together.
But for me, it was painful.
And for her, an opportunity to belittle me even more.
She blamed me for everything.
— You can’t give me a child! — You can’t even cook, your food will give me an ulcer! — You’re not a man if you can’t handle such trifles!
I felt worthless.
I tried to fight. Sought out doctors, did tests, went through treatment.
All in vain.
She broke me while I endured it.
Eventually, I gave up.
I withdrew, stopped socializing, and distanced myself from everyone.
I became a shadow of my former self.
I no longer recognized the confident guy who once dreamed of family, happiness, children.
Looking in the mirror, I saw a pitiful man who feared speaking up.
When I tried to protest against the constant belittling and expressed my desire for respect, Emily laughed in my face:
— You? Who do you think you are? You’re pathetic! Worse than any beggar on the street!
She knew I had nowhere to go.
She convinced everyone around that I was useless, weak, worthless.
And I began to believe it too.
She told me that without her, I would falter, that I couldn’t survive on my own.
So I stayed.
But in March, everything shifted…
I had only one friend left—Sarah.
She had moved to Greece for work long ago but came back this spring when her husband fell seriously ill.
And then he passed away.
Sarah was left alone in her house. Her sons had long been living abroad.
I started visiting her after work and occasionally spent the night.
At first, Emily disapproved, then it escalated to fights, and finally, threats.
— You will not go there! — I’ll drag you out by the hair! — I’ll lock you in the house! — I’ll file for divorce!
One evening, Sarah looked at me and said:
— God willing, she does file for divorce!
We looked at each other, and suddenly I understood: here was my chance.
Sarah offered me to stay in her home when she returned to Greece.
Without rent, I could manage on my salary.
I agreed.
I left. I chose me.
Since then, I’ve been living in her apartment.
I wake up in the morning, approach the window, gaze at our old house where I once lived with Emily, and quietly say:
— Good morning, Jack!
I look at my life and realize: I am free.
I am not afraid anymore.
I’ve started to smile again.
I’ve relearned how to live.
As I look towards Emily’s house, I silently say to her:
“There’s always a way out, dear!”
I put on a clean shirt, step out the door, walking the street with my head held high.
Now, I will not be broken.”
