The End! He belittled me for 16 years, and I endured it…
Everything changed in the spring…
I never imagined anything could shake the stagnant life I had been living for those long 16 years.
I’d lost hope a long time ago.
At 22, I got married, believing I’d found the one, my soulmate, to spend my life with. Hannah was everything to me. She had an enchanting pull, a magical allure that drew me in. I was so infatuated with her that even her oddities seemed endearing.
Like her habit of flinging the window open in the dead of winter and yanking the duvet off me to wake me at dawn.
Or her favorite “joke” of making me twirl in front of friends as if I were a model on display.
She made all the decisions for me.
She chose where I should work.
Where we would holiday.
Which friends I could keep, and who I needed to cut out of my life.
And I let her do it.
Because I thought that’s how love worked.
I was blind.
I believed a child would change everything…
When our marriage started to crumble, I genuinely thought having a child would save it.
I was wrong.
Hannah left me to struggle alone.
She didn’t care about my fears, my anxieties, or the doctors telling us we had little chance.
She easily accepted that she already had children from her first marriage, so having none with me seemed trivial.
But for me, it was a source of pain.
For her, it was a chance to belittle me further.
She blamed me for everything.
“You can’t give me a child!”
“You don’t even know how to cook! Your food’s going to give me ulcers!”
“You’re no man if you can’t handle such a small issue!”
I felt worthless.
I fought back. I sought out doctors, endured tests, went through treatments.
But it was all for naught.
She was breaking me, and I endured.
Over time, I gave up.
I withdrew into myself, stopped socializing, and distanced myself from everyone.
I became a shadow of my former self.
I no longer recognized the confident young man who once dreamed of family, happiness, and children.
Looking into the mirror, I saw a pitiful man too afraid to even speak up.
When I tried to voice that I deserved respect and didn’t warrant constant belittling, Hannah laughed in my face:
“You? Who do you think you are? You’re pathetic! Even street beggars have more pride!”
She knew I had nowhere to go.
She convinced everyone around that I was useless, weak, and a waste of space.
And I began to believe it.
She told me I’d be lost without her, that I couldn’t survive on my own.
And I stayed.
But in March, everything flipped…
I had just one friend left—Stephanie.
She had moved to work in Italy long ago, but came back in the spring because her husband fell seriously ill.
Then he passed away.
Stephanie was left alone in her house. Her sons were living abroad for years.
I started visiting her after work, sometimes staying over.
At first, Hannah didn’t like it, then it led to rows, and eventually, she resorted to threats.
“You won’t be going there!”
“I’ll drag you out by your hair!”
“I’ll lock you up!”
“I’ll file for divorce!”
One evening, Stephanie looked at me and said:
“God willing, she does file for divorce!”
We looked at each other, and suddenly, I realized: here’s my chance.
Stephanie offered me a place to stay when she returned to Italy.
Without the burden of rent, I could manage on my wages.
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 house where Hannah and I once lived, and quietly whisper:
“Good morning, John!”
I look at my life and feel free.
I’m no longer afraid.
I’ve started to smile again.
I’ve learned to live once more.
I glance towards Hannah’s place and mentally tell her:
“There’s always a way out, dear!”
I put on a clean shirt, step outside, and walk down the street with my head held high.
Nothing can break me now.
