When my husband hit me because I hadn’t cooked, even though I had a 104°F fever, I signed the divorce papers. His mother shouted at me, “If you leave, you’ll end up on the street without a single cent!”
But my response completely silenced her. Once my fever subsided, my marriage with him fell apart as well.At twenty-five, I married, believing that love alone was enough for a shared life.But three years later, I realized that a marriage based on control is not love—it’s a slow process of decay. That evening, my fever spiked…