Whenever I tried to express my feelings, Ethan would dismiss me outright. “You’re a housewife, Nancy,” he’d say with a smug grin. “It’s not like you have a hard life.” His words cut deep, but I swallowed my pain, telling myself that I needed to stay strong for Lily. My daughter deserved a stable home, even if I had to endure Ethan’s growing indifference to provide it. Over the years, I realized the man I had fallen in love with was gone. Ethan had become a stranger, one who no longer saw me as a partner but as someone to command and criticize. What I once believed was a dream had slowly turned into a nightmare. Yet, I clung to the hope that someday things might change.
Ethan’s criticism became a constant in my life, a dark cloud hanging over every moment. No matter how much effort I put into keeping the house spotless or making sure dinner was ready when he walked through the door, it was never enough. He always found something to complain about. “You missed a spot on the counter,” he’d say as he dropped his bag on the kitchen table. Or, “Why isn’t Lily ready for bed yet? What do you even do all day?” His words felt like tiny cuts, slowly eroding my confidence. At first, I tried to reason with him, explaining how much effort I put into managing everything, but my words always fell on deaf ears. “You’re just making excuses, Nancy,” he’d reply. “You have one job: to take care of this house and our family. Why is that so hard?”
Ethan’s frequent job changes only made things worse. Each time he came home with news of being let go or quitting, he would blame everyone but himself. His bosses were unfair, his co-workers incompetent. And yet, somehow, he managed to twist these failures into reasons why I was the one letting him down. “You’re supposed to make things easier for me,” he’d say. “Instead, you’re just another problem I have to deal with.” I often felt like I was raising two children: Lily and Ethan. While I did everything to make Lily’s childhood happy and safe, Ethan’s unpredictable moods made it a constant challenge. He would criticize her too, scolding her for minor things like leaving toys on the floor or talking too loudly. I found myself stepping in, trying to shield her from his harshness. “Don’t take that tone with her,” I’d say firmly, only for him to turn his anger on me. “Maybe if you taught her some discipline, I wouldn’t have to,” he’d snap back. As the years passed, I stopped trying to argue. It was exhausting, and I knew it would only escalate. Instead, I focused on Lily, pouring all my energy into giving her a sense of stability and love, even as my own spirit wore thin. Ethan, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on control. The man I had once admired had become someone I barely recognized—a man whose words and actions left me feeling small and invisible. And yet, I stayed. For Lily, I told myself. For the hope that one day things might get better.
It was a typical Tuesday evening, and I had just finished grocery shopping. My mind was preoccupied with the long list of tasks waiting for me at home: preparing dinner, checking Lily’s homework, and tidying up the kitchen. As I crossed the street with bags in hand, I never saw the car coming. The screech of tires and the blaring of the horn were the last things I heard before everything went black.
NEXT PAGE
