I got married after a 6-year love story.
He was everything to me.
I insisted on him, despite the large socio-economic gap between us.
“He won’t be able to support you on that salary. They’re not like us,” my family said.

I insisted on marrying him anyway.
And I made my family give up many of their demands.
My family helped him buy an apartment.
And helped him with the wedding expenses.
My family and I even bought the wedding dress.

I thought I was being reliable and strong.
A girl you could depend on.
One that stood by her husband and made sure their love story continued to flourish.
We were going to prove everybody wrong with our love.

We finally got married.
We travelled for a week for our honeymoon.

His true colors started to show the last day of our honeymoon.
He hit me and made me go back to my parents with nothing but my suitcase.

A month later, he hit me again.
This time in front of his family.

Our love began to disintegrate.
Our problems began to increase in number,
I started seeing a side of him I hadn’t seen before.
He didn’t support me financially.
Sometimes, he left me without a single pound.
He never bought me anything.
He always assumed my family would get me whatever I needed.

I became pregnant 6 months later.
I was very happy.
Despite our deteriorating relationship, this was a moment I’d always dreamed of.

I gave birth to a baby boy.
My husband didn’t spend a single pound on him.
During one of our many fights, I decided to go back home to my family.
I also decided to never come back.

I came to hate our apartment.
I asked for a divorce.
It took a year of begging and pleading to convince him to grant it to me.
He acted like he still cared about me.
He said that he’d change.
But God planted a hatred in my heart so strong toward him, that I couldn’t go back.

One day, I went back to the apartment to get a few of my things.
I found women in my apartment, basically living there.
They were wearing my clothes and living in my apartment, paid for with my money.

I asked the court for a khulu’ [divorce initiated by the wife].
I was granted the divorce years later.
I didn’t receive any of my rights.
I only got back part of my share of the apartment.

He rarely asks about his son.
And what do I tell my son when he does ask?

His family made me go through hell.
I’d rather not go into further detail.

There are flaws you’ll never notice until you spend a lot of time with someone.