**Diary Entry**
“Let me go, Max We tried to make this work, but its not happening. Why keep torturing each other? Just let me file for divorce.”
“Dream on,” he scoffed, lips curling. “Youre not going anywhere. Youre my wife, Im your husbandthats how it works. What, lifes not good enough for you? Found someone else? Answer me when Im talking to you!”
***
Emily sat on the edge of the sofa, fingers twisting the fringe of the throw blanket. After yet another row with her husband, she wished she could vanishjust disappear from his life for good. Divorce was an option, but she couldnt muster the courage to file. Two years of marriage now felt like a nightmare, especially the last six months. Max had morphed into some petty domestic tyrant, picking at her every move.
This morning had started with something trivialshed ordered a new face cream.
“Wasting money on rubbish again?” Maxs voice cut through the room as she walked in with the parcel. She tried explaining, but he wasnt listening.
“Ever think about us? Or is it just you? Face cream? Couldve helped my parents instead.”
“Max, come on. I workits my money. And I do help your parents.”
“Pocket change! They need real support. Youre selfish, Em. Always spending your wages on potions and rags.” His voice rose, eyes flashing. Emily crumbled into tears. As usual, Max slammed the door, leaving her alone with the suffocating weight of helplessness. He always did thispushed her to breaking point, then walked away.
…She remembered how it began. Max had been perfectattentive, loving. But slowly, something shifted. Or maybe shed never seen the real Max.
That evening, he returned to find her sipping tea in the kitchen.
“Crying again?” he muttered, not looking up.
“No You just hurt me.”
“My fault, is it? Think before you act.”
“What am I doing wrong?”
“Everything! Im out working, killing myselfand you? Half-day tapping keys, half-day lounging!”
“I work just as hard,” she shot back, instantly regretting it.
“On what? Pennies! Im the one keeping us afloat. You should be grateful. Not once have you thanked me.”
“I *am* grateful. But that doesnt mean you can talk to me like this.”
“How else should I talk? Youre never happy. And the waterworksstop painting me the villain!”
“Youre always angry. Im scared to speak, to buy anything, even to rest. If I nap, youll scream at me! I cant take it anymore”
“Spare me the victim act. Makes me sick.” The disgust in his voice was a physical blow.
“I dont understand,” she whispered. “Why are you like this?”
“Just dont piss me off, and were fine.”
His eyes held no warmthonly irritation.
“Maybe we should talk see a counselor?”
“*You* need a shrink. Youre the one inventing problems.”
That night, Emily made her decision. While Max sprawled in front of the telly, she dug out an old notebook and began plotting her escape.
***
Next morning, she left early, stopping at a café to clear her head. Over coffee, she scribbled in her notebook:
*Step one: Find part-time workneed more savings. Step two: Rent a flat or room. Step three: Pack essentials. Step four*
“Em?”
She looked up. Hannah, an old schoolmate, stood there.
“Blimey! Its been ages.”
“You alright? You look rough.”
Emily hadnt heard kindness in years. Max had isolated her from friends; shed spared her parents from worry. The dam broke.
“Its Max He belittles me, controls everything. Im scared itll turn physical. Hes raised his hand during fights”
“Leave. Come stay with me. There are shelters, free counseling. Youre stronger than you think.”
By evening, Emily felt reborn.
***
Max was waiting when she got home.
“Whereve you been?”
“Out.”
“Got a bloke now, have you?” Her blood turned to ice.
“Dont be vile.”
“*Im* vile? Youre the one sneaking about.”
“Enough.” She took a steadying breath. “We need to talk. About us.”
“Spare me the drama.”
“I want a divorce.”
His face twisted. “*What?*”
“I cant live like this. Youve crushed me for years. Im done.”
“Youd be *nothing* without me!”
“Id be *free.*”
His laughter was jagged. “Free? Youll crawl back. No one wants you.”
She said nothing. The decision was made.
“Pack your things,” he snarled the next morning. “But youre not leaving.”
“I am.”
He lunged, shoving her against the wall. Her head cracked against plaster before she hit the floor. As his fist clenched above her, she shut her eyes
**Lesson Learned:** No love is worth your dignity. Fear is not a home. Walk away before the door locks behind you.
