Three Weeks of Marriage and Thoughts of Divorce
I’ve only been married for three weeks, and I already can’t bear it. I want to file for divorce because every day with James feels like a trial that makes my heart ache. My mum, Elizabeth, keeps saying, “Emily, hold on, don’t destroy what you’ve just built so quickly. Give it time—things will settle.” But how can I wait when I already feel like I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life? I loved James, believed we’d be happy, and now I sit here wondering: how could I have been so wrong?
When James and I were dating, it was like a fairy tale. He was attentive, brought me flowers, sent sweet messages, promised we’d build the family I’d always dreamed of. I saw him as the man I’d raise children with, travel with, laugh at silly jokes with. Our wedding was three weeks ago—beautiful, with a white dress, dancing till dawn, and toasts to everlasting love. Back then, I looked at James and thought: this is my happiness. But the moment we started living together, the fairy tale turned into a nightmare.
The first warning signs appeared the day after the wedding. We returned from a short honeymoon, and instead of helping me unpack, James flopped onto the sofa with his phone. “Emily, I’m exhausted, you handle it,” he said. I swallowed my frustration, thinking he must be tired. But then it became the norm. He leaves dishes piled up, scatters socks around the flat, and when I ask for help, he snaps, “You’re the wife—that’s your job.” My job? I work too, come home just as late, and still cook dinner because he “hates takeaway.” I thought marriage was a partnership, not one person serving another.
But there’s more. James started showing a side of himself I’d never seen before. He snaps at the smallest things—if I leave a mug on the table, ask him to take out the rubbish, or simply try to talk about something important. The other day, I brought up our plans—saving for a car, celebrating our anniversary. He cut me off: “Emily, stop nagging, I’ve got enough on my plate.” What plate? Lying on the sofa scrolling through social media? I look at him and don’t recognize the man who swore to love me forever.
The worst part is how he treats me. Yesterday, after a long day at work, I was making dinner when he walked into the kitchen and said, “This roast isn’t as good as Mum’s.” I nearly threw the ladle at him. Not as good as his mum’s? Then go back to her! I’d tried to do something nice, and he couldn’t even say thank you. Then he added, “And honestly, you could put more effort into your appearance—wandering around in a dressing gown like an old woman.” That was the final straw. Three weeks married, and he’s already criticising how I look? I locked myself in the bedroom and cried half the night. Not because of his words, but because I realised: this isn’t my James. This is a stranger I don’t want to live with.
I called my mum and told her everything. Elizabeth listened and said, “Emily, marriage is hard work. You’ll adjust, he’ll adjust. Don’t rush into divorce—give him a chance.” But what chance? I see no effort from him—no apologies, no help, no appreciation. I feel like a housemaid, not a wife. Mum says I’m overreacting, that all couples go through this. But I don’t want to “go through it.” I want to be with someone who respects me, not someone who thinks I exist to please him.
This morning, I told James, “If this continues, I’ll file for divorce.” He looked at me like I was joking and said, “Come on, Emily, don’t be dramatic. It’s fine.” Fine? For him, maybe. For me, it’s hell. I don’t recognise myself. Where’s the cheerful, confident woman who danced at her wedding? Now I just scramble to please a man who couldn’t care less.
I’m seriously considering divorce. I know it won’t be easy—explaining it to family, dividing belongings, starting over. People will whisper, “Three weeks married and already divorcing? What kind of wife is she?” But I don’t care about gossip. I won’t stay with someone who makes me miserable. I dreamed of a family, not a life of servitude. And if James doesn’t change, I’ll leave. Better to be alone than with someone who doesn’t value you.
Yet somewhere deep down, I still hope. Maybe Mum’s right, and this is just the “adjustment period”? Maybe James will realise he’s losing me and start trying? I’ve given myself a week. If nothing changes, I’ll see a solicitor. Until then, I’ll endure, though every day feels like a test. I look at our wedding photo and wonder: where’s the James who promised me happiness? And how could I have been so wrong? But one thing I know for sure: I deserve better. Love shouldn’t mean losing yourself to keep someone else.
