My husband Edward has grown so full of himself lately, acting like the sun revolves around him, that he’s started dictating terms to me—not just any terms, but ones that make my blood run cold. He declared he’d divorce me if I didn’t cut ties with my daughter, Emily, from my first marriage. Seriously? She’s my child, my blood, my life. And he thinks he can just erase her from my heart with his threats? I still can’t fathom how the man I’ve shared years with could sink this low.
It started a few months ago. Edward always had a strong personality, but I used to admire it—his confidence, his decisiveness, the way he took charge. When we married, I thought I’d found a steadfast partner who’d stand by me and accept my family. Emily was only five then, small and bright, and she adored him straight away, calling him “Papa Eddie.” It warmed my heart to see them bond. But over time, something shifted.
He began withdrawing from Emily. Little things at first—he stopped asking about her day at school, lost interest in her stories, no longer played with her like before. I dismissed it as exhaustion—his job was demanding, late nights were common. But then came the irritation. *”You spend too much time on her,”* he snapped once over dinner. I was stunned. She’s *my daughter*. How could I *not* give her time? She lives with my mum, Margaret, in the next town over, and I only see her on weekends. Those visits are my lifeline, the way I stay her mother despite the distance.
Then came the ultimatum. Last month, Edward sat across from me at the kitchen table, arms folded, his expression unyielding. *”I won’t have you running off to Emily every weekend. It’s disrupting our family.”* I thought I’d misheard. *What* family? It’s just us—we’ve no children together, and Emily *is* my family. I tried to explain—that I couldn’t abandon her, that she’d already endured one divorce, that she needed me. But he just waved me off. *”She’s old enough to manage. If you don’t stop, I’ll file for divorce.”*
I sat there, dumbstruck. Divorce? Because I wanted to be a mother to my own child? The absurdity of it left me speechless. In that moment, I realised the man I’d leaned on didn’t see me as his partner—just someone to obey his rules. He didn’t just want to limit my time with Emily; he wanted control over my entire life.
The pieces fell into place. How he criticised my mum for “spoiling” Emily. How he scowled when I bought her gifts or paid for her ballet lessons. The way he once said, *”The past should stay in the past,”* as if my first marriage—and my daughter—were sins to bury. I’d ignored it then, but now the pattern was clear. He didn’t just resent Emily—he wanted her *gone* from our lives.
I don’t know what to do. Part of me wants to pack my things and leave tonight. I won’t live with a man who gives me such vile conditions. But another part is afraid. Edward and I have been together seven years. We own a home, share a future. I’ve poured so much into this—hope, effort, time. And how would I explain it to Emily? She already asks why *Papa Eddie* doesn’t call or visit anymore. How do I tell her he wants me to *forget* her?
My mum says I must choose my daughter, even if it means losing my husband. *”You’ll never forgive yourself if you pick him over Emily,”* she told me over the phone. And she’s right. Emily isn’t just my past—she’s my heart. I remember holding her the day she was born, her first steps, the sound of her laughter. I won’t betray her for a man who sees her as a problem.
But Edward won’t back down. Days ago, he brought it up again, colder this time. *”It’s me or your daughter. I won’t share my wife with her ex’s baggage.”* I stayed silent, knowing any reply would fuel his anger. But inside, my choice was made. I’ll never stop seeing Emily. *Never.* Even if it costs me my marriage.
Now I’m planning my next steps. Maybe I’ll consult a solicitor, scope out flats near Emily’s town, look for a better-paying job. It’s terrifying—but it also steels my resolve. I want my daughter to know: no matter what, her mum will always fight for her.
Edward thinks his threats will break me. He’s wrong. I won’t live by anyone’s rules, least of all ones that demand I sacrifice what matters most. I choose Emily. And if that means starting over? So be it. For her. For us.
