Crushed Confidence, Revived Passion

Over the three years of our marriage, every time I defied Elroy, he would threaten me with divorce. For the sake of my parents’ reputation, as they would be embarrassed by their daughter’s divorce, I had always swallowed my pride and begged for peace.

Over time, he knew that divorce was my biggest fear and used it to manipulate me.

That evening, I returned home with my newly curled hair. As soon as I walked through the door, I heard the sound of things smashing in the living room.

He looked up and sneered, “So, you defied me, went out and came home dressed like a prostitute! Did you just spend time with your sleazy client?” I said nothing, my anger too deep for words and headed straight upstairs to the bedroom. The clatter of broken objects behind me only fueled my resolve to ignore him. Elroy, seeing me disregard his outburst, stormed over and blocked the staircase with a menacing presence. “Kaitlin! I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” I faced him with a steely gaze. “You wanted a divorce, didn’t you? What else do you want me to say?”

He was clearly taken aback by my seriousness. His eyes widened and his expression shifted to one of bewilderment. “You really want a divorce?”

“Yes,” I replied calmly. “I even made an appointment.”

I pulled out my phone and showed him the confirmation for a meeting with a divorce lawyer, scheduled for eight the next morning.

Elroy’s face drained of color as he read the message repeatedly, unable to process what he was seeing.

“Happy? Now, can you step aside so I can get to my room and get some beauty sleep?” I sighed and tapped my foot impatiently.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Elroy asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

“Does that appointment look like a joke to you?” I said, rolling my eyes. I sidestepped him and walked up to my bedroom on the second floor. 

Despite being married for three years, Elroy and I had always slept in separate rooms—he in the master bedroom and I in the spare room. Even on our wedding night, we had spent the night in a hotel. At first, he had convinced me with some strange reasoning about some positioning. He claimed that the master bedroom’s design clashed with my aura and that sleeping there would negatively impact on my health. Worse, he insisted that we couldn’t conceive a child anywhere in the house, as it would bring bad luck and endanger our family’s prosperity.

I suggested moving to a new house that would better fit our preferences, but Elroy argued that our current home was in a top school district, essential for our future children’s education. Therefore, moving was not an option.

Yawning, I brushed off everything that concerns me. I wasn’t interested in whether he wanted to move or not; right now, I just wanted to watch some videos and go to bed.

As soon as I opened my phone, I saw Elroy’s latest TikTok video. He was wearing an apron and painstakingly picking up shards of broken porcelain from the floor, his hands cut and bleeding. The background music was one of those emotional TikTok ballads that added a dramatic touch to the scene.

I tapped on the caption, which read: ‘My wife’s in a bad mood, so as a loving husband, I need to be understanding. I clean up the mess for her so the shattered pieces don’t hurt her. Real love requires sacrifice.’

The comments were already piling up with support for him.

“Bro, if it’s that bad, why not just find another wife? There are plenty fish in the sea.”

“Yeah, looking at your situation, if you find a second wife to marry, you won’t do worse than this.”

“Why torture yourself with a drama queen? What were you thinking?”

I laughed out of sheer frustration. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He deliberately broke things, cleaned them up and then made a video to portray himself as a devoted husband while painting me as a difficult wife. It was a pathetic attempt to gain sympathy and divert attention from his own manipulative behavior.