My wife is one person in public, but completely different at home.
I’ve decided to share my pain—a hurt that has lingered for years.
My wife has two faces. In public, she is charming, courteous, and radiant. But once we step inside our home, she transforms into an entirely different person.
In front of others, she smiles, speaks softly, and is generous with compliments. Polite, kind, and attentive—everyone adores her.
Our friends envy me and say, “What a wonderful wife you have, a real dream!”
Yet, inside, I want to scream.
Because no one sees how she behaves behind closed doors.
A different reality behind closed doors
At home, everything is different.
She speaks to me harshly, as if I were not her husband but some sort of servant.
She criticises me for the smallest things: if a dish isn’t in the right place, if I’m late coming home, or if I forget to buy something from the shop.
Her most affectionate term for me is “idiot” or “simpleton.”
I don’t even dare to dream of receiving a compliment or a warm word.
I remember how she used to be
Sometimes I ask myself: why do I tolerate this?
Then I think back to when we first started dating.
Back then, she was the most tender, caring, and feminine woman.
She looked at me with love in her eyes, her voice was gentle, and she knew how to uplift and instill confidence.
At that moment, I believed I had found my happiness.
But apparently, I was just a “stranger” to her then.
Now, knowing I won’t leave, her true self has emerged.
The attempt to leave
One day, I decided it was time to teach her a lesson.
I packed my things, took the children, and went to stay with my sister.
When she returned home and found us gone, fear overcame her. She immediately called me, trying to find out where we were and what had happened.
The children told me she wandered around the house, unable to settle. Her hands trembled; she looked utterly lost.
She reached out to all our friends, her voice filled with panic.
When I finally answered the phone, I could hear her crying.
“Please come back,” was all she said.
I returned.
That night, she held my hand tightly, not letting go for a second.
The next morning, she promised that everything would change. That she would be kinder, and that I would once again hear comforting words from her.
I believed her.
But as soon as life returned to its usual rhythm, everything reverted to how it was.
To endure or to leave?
It pains me to admit, but I don’t know what to do next.
Leave?
Yes, but right now there’s food in the house, the fridge is stocked, and the bills are paid. The children are fed and clothed.
Stay?
But then I would have to live in a world devoid of warmth, affection, and even basic respect.
Perhaps I’m destined to live without love.
Yet, maybe that’s the lesser of two evils?
