The first night my husband gave me red tea, I thought it was just love, his quiet way of showing he cared.
“What’s so special about it? Drink it yourself, maybe then I’ll drink too.”
Then suddenly, his tone changed.
The man who was calm, soft, and pleading seconds ago… changed completely.
He raised his voice, sharp, furious.
“Oh, because I’m begging you? Who do you think you are? You must drink it!”
For the first time, I saw real anger in his eyes.
I leaned back a little. “So now it’s a must?”
“Yes!” he barked. “Take this and drink now! Don’t waste my time!”
I shook my head slowly. “Then I’m leaving this house. Right now.”
He laughed, a cold, wicked laugh.
“Leave? And go where? Orphan like you, no family, no home. I made you who you are. Marrying you was a favor. You’ll do what I say, when I say it.”
His words cut deep. I was speechless.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
The pain of remembering my parents… the loneliness… the struggle growing up… it broke me.
Tears rolled down my face.
I looked up at him and said, trembling,
“Yes, I’m an orphan. Call me whatever you want. But if man fails me, God never will.”
He stared, but before he could speak, a knock came at the door.
The room went silent.
He froze, eyes wide with fear.
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