The End! For sixteen years, he belittled me, and I endured it… But everything changed in the spring… I never imagined anything could shake up the stagnant routine I had lived in for those long sixteen years.
I had lost hope long ago.
At the age of 22, I married. I believed I had found the one, the person I’d spend my life with. Helen was everything to me. She had this captivating energy that drew me in with some magical power. I was so blinded by her charm that even her quirks seemed endearing to me.
Like her habit of flinging open the window in the dead of winter and yanking the blanket off me to wake me up at dawn.
Or her favorite “joke”—making me spin around in front of our friends as if I were a model being appraised for purchase.
She made decisions on my behalf.
She chose where I should work.
Where we would vacation.
Which of my friends I could see, and who should be crossed out of my life.
And I let her.
Because I thought this was love, that it was how it was supposed to be.
I was blind.
I believed that having a child would change everything… As our marriage began to fall apart, I genuinely thought that a child would save it.
I was wrong.
Helen abandoned me in the struggle.
She was indifferent to my fears, my worries, the doctors’ grim assessments.
She easily accepted that she already had children from her first marriage, so we might not have any together.
But for me, it was painful.
For her, it was an opportunity to demean me further.
She blamed me for everything.
“You can’t even give me a child!”
“You can’t cook; your food will give me ulcers!”
“You’re not a real man if you can’t handle such trivialities!”
I felt utterly worthless.
I tried to fight. I sought doctors, took tests, underwent treatment courses.
But it was all in vain.
She broke me, and I endured it. Over time, I gave up.
I withdrew into myself, stopped communicating with people, distanced from everyone.
I became a shadow of my former self.
I no longer recognized the confident young man who once dreamed of a family, happiness, and children.
Looking in the mirror, I saw a pathetic man, too afraid to speak up.
When I tried to argue that I didn’t deserve constant humiliation, that I wanted respect, Helen laughed in my face:
“You? Who do you think you are? You’re pathetic! Worse than any homeless man on the street!”
She knew I had nowhere to go.
She convinced everyone around that I was useless, weak, worthless.
And I started to believe it myself.
She told me that without her, I’d be lost, that I wouldn’t survive on my own.
And so, I stayed.
But in March, everything turned around…
I had one friend left—Sarah.
She had moved to Greece for work a while back but returned in the spring when her husband fell gravely ill.
And then he passed away.
Sarah was left alone in her house, as her sons had long been living abroad.
I began visiting her after work, sometimes staying over.
At first, Helen didn’t like it, then she started making scenes, and finally resorted to threats.
“You won’t go there!”
“I’ll drag you out by your hair!”
“I’ll lock you in the house!”
“I’ll file for divorce!”
One evening, Sarah looked at me and said:
“God willing, she will file for divorce!”
We looked at each other, and suddenly I realized: here was my chance.
Sarah suggested I stay at her place when she returned to Greece.
If I didn’t have to pay rent, I could live on my salary.
I agreed.
I left. I chose myself.
Since then, I’ve been living in her flat.
I wake up in the morning, walk to the window, look at the old home I once shared with Helen, and quietly say:
“Good morning, John!”
I look at my life and understand: I am free.
I’m no longer afraid.
I’ve started smiling again.
I’ve learned to live once more.
I glance over at Helen’s house and mentally tell her:
“There’s always a way out, dear!”
I put on a crisp shirt, leave the house, and walk down the street with my head held high.
Now, I am unbreakable.
