It wasn’t just emotional manipulation. The physical abuse came next.
I can still remember the first time he slapped me. I had done something wrong—forgot to pick up his dry cleaning or not cooked dinner exactly how he liked it. He raised his hand in anger, and I stood there frozen, too afraid to move. He quickly apologized afterward, saying it wouldn’t happen again, that it was my fault for “provoking him.” And, like a fool, I believed him.
But the apologies were never enough. The physical abuse became more frequent, the insults more biting, and the emotional toll heavier with each passing day. I was trapped, convinced that I couldn’t leave because of Sophie, because of what people would think, because of the house we had built together. I stayed, enduring the torment, convincing myself that I was strong enough to handle it.
And then, one night, everything changed.
Chapter 2: The Breaking Point
