My wife is one person in public and quite another at home.
I’ve decided to share my pain, a pain that has not faded over the years.
My wife has two sides. In social settings, she is charming, polite, and radiant. But as soon as the doors of our home close, she becomes a completely different person.
In public, she smiles, speaks with a gentle tone, and generously offers compliments. She is courteous, kind, and attentive—everyone admires her.
Friends envy me, saying, “What a dream wife you have!”
But inside, I want to scream.
Because no one sees how she behaves at home.
Behind closed doors lies another reality. Everything changes indoors.
She speaks to me harshly, as if I were not her husband but merely a servant.
She criticizes me over the smallest issues: if a dish is out of place, if I come home late from work, or if I forget to buy something from the shop.
Her kindest term for me is “fool” or “simpleton.”
I don’t even dream of receiving compliments or kind words.
I remember her differently.
Sometimes I ask myself: why do I endure this?
Then I recall how she was when we first started dating.
Back then, she was the most tender, caring, and feminine woman.
She looked at me with loving eyes, her voice was sweet, and she knew how to uplift me and instill confidence.
At that time, I thought I had found my happiness.
But, evidently, I was still a “stranger” to her back then.
And now, convinced I am not going anywhere, the masks have come off.
Attempt at Leaving
One day, I decided to teach her a lesson.
I packed my things, took the children, and went to my sister’s house.
When she returned home and found us missing, fear enveloped her. She immediately started calling me, trying to find out where we were and what had happened.
The children told me that she roamed the house, unable to settle. Her hands trembled, and she looked lost.
She called all our friends, her voice filled with anxiety.
When I finally answered the phone, she was in tears.
“Please come back,” was all she said.
I returned.
That night, she clung to my hand without letting go for even a moment.
The next morning, she promised that things would change. That she would be kinder and that I would hear kind words from her again.
I believed her.
But as soon as life returned to its routine, everything repeated.
To Endure or to Leave?
I’m ashamed to admit it, but I don’t know what to do next.
Leave?
Yes, but right now, there’s food in the house, the fridge is always stocked, bills are paid, and the children are well-fed and dressed.
Stay?
But then I would have to live in a world devoid of warmth, affection, or even basic respect.
Perhaps I am destined to live without love.
But maybe that’s the lesser of two evils?
