The third time I filed for divorce, my husband broke two of my ribs in a fit of domestic violence. After spending two weeks in the hospital, I returned home. Even the neighbors came to persuade me: “Couples don’t hold grudges overnight. It’s not easy for a man to make money out there…” I smiled and agreed, “You’re right. My husband is everything. I should always support him.” I started acting like a submissive wife from the old days, serving my husband hand and foot. Within a few months, my husband made a small fortune. Those relatives and neighbors who had advised me earlier couldn’t sit still anymore. When I filed for divorce for the third time, my husband knelt down in court, begging me to reconsider. He even used our 2-year-old daughter as leverage, saying that without me, he and our daughter couldn’t survive. The judge ruled that our marriage wasn’t beyond repair and dismissed the case, even though I provided a thick stack of evidence of domestic violence. That night when we got home, my husband grabbed me by the neck like a dog and slammed me against the wall in a fit of rage. Even as I lay on the ground with blood streaming from my head, he became more excited and continued to punch and kick me. “Damn it, you bitch! Didn’t I tell you never to mention divorce again?!” he yelled. “You dare to sue me again?!” His angry shouts accompanied the dull thuds of his fists and feet hitting my body. Our two-year-old daughter was too young to understand what was happening. She could only instinctively hear my miserable moans from the bedroom. She cried and knocked on the door. “Don’t hit mommy, daddy, don’t hit mommy…” Her crying and knocking irritated my husband. He angrily dragged our daughter into the room and threw her in front of me. “Ava, if you dare to talk about divorce again, I’ll kill her in front of you first!” I endured the pain and held our daughter in my arms. The commotion in the house attracted the neighbors. Seeing that things had “escalated,” my husband started slapping himself and crying, “I’m sorry, honey. I had too much to drink… I can’t live without you and Chloe.” He alternated between “self-harm” and kneeling to apologize. The neighbors who had gathered around started saying things like, “A man’s knees are worth gold. He’s already apologized. How can you, as his wife, still not know when to stop? Are you determined to tear this family apart?” Everyone loves to join in on the drama. Almost all the residents in the community squeezed into our home. After my husband’s apology, the neighbors started comforting him instead. Meanwhile, I, the victim of domestic violence with a bleeding head, was treated as if I deserved it. It wasn’t until after the neighbors “mediated” that they thought to call an ambulance to take me to the hospital. When they learned that two of my ribs were broken, I had a mild concussion, and multiple soft tissue injuries, they only said lightly: “Oh my, Jack, how could you hit her so hard?” “Men are stronger. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He just had a bit to drink.” “Rest well and recover. Once you’re out of the hospital, live your life properly. If you don’t provoke him, how could he hit you?” Ha, how ridiculous! Being abused by my husband somehow became my own fault. After being abused so many times, even my parents couldn’t be bothered to visit me in the hospital anymore. In this battle for self-preservation in marriage, I was forced to stand against everyone. It seemed that I could only quietly endure my husband’s abuse, unable to fight back or even “escape.” Otherwise, I would be seen as inconsiderate, airing out marital problems for everyone to see.
After staying in the hospital for two weeks, I had to leave early because my husband didn’t pay the extended fees. As soon as I returned to the neighborhood, a group of gossiping older women saw me and “caringly” surrounded me. “Couples don’t hold grudges overnight. It’s not easy for a man to make money out there…” “That’s right. In our generation, which woman hasn’t been hit by her husband? We’ve lived through decades like this. For the sake of your Chloe, just endure it.” They enthusiastically advised me one after another, saying it was for the child’s sake, and that all women get hit sometimes. I didn’t get angry. I smiled and agreed, “You’re right. My husband is everything. I should always support him.” “Look, on my way back from the hospital, I even bought a few pounds of pork ribs. My husband loves eating them.” I showed them the bag in my hand. “I need to go now. I have to get home and start cooking the ribs.” “Oh… it’s good that you can think this way.” They looked at me with expressions that seemed to wonder if I had been hit stupid. I slowly walked towards the apartment building, holding my left side. My ribs hadn’t fully healed yet, and even the slightest movement caused pain. “Has Ava been beaten into submission by her husband?” “I told you she just needed some discipline. Women become obedient after a few beatings.” I heard the older women talking behind me. It was hard to imagine that women themselves would say such things so matter-of-factly about other women. The sun was shining brightly, but I felt a chill deep in my soul that couldn’t be dispelled. I grew up in a family that favored boys over girls. I thought it was because my mom had two daughters before finally having a son that she particularly favored my brother. But now I realized that the whole society favored men over women. Even women themselves valued men more than themselves. … As I carried the pork ribs upstairs, my mother-in-law saw me and immediately slapped me across the face. “You worthless woman! Let me tell you, you’re not getting a divorce until you give my family a son or two!” “You think that $20,000 bride price we paid was for nothing? We bought you for our family. So what if my son beats you when he’s in a bad mood? It’s not like it’ll kill you!” My mother-in-law unleashed a torrent of abuse. My daughter hid in the corner of the sofa, wanting to come hug me but not daring to. When my mother-in-law finally tired of yelling, I forced a smile and apologized, promising to live a good life from now on and give the Wang family a healthy baby boy soon. Only then did my mother-in-law glare at me a few more times before turning to scold my daughter, calling her a money-losing burden and other insults. “Mom, go rest. I’ll start cooking the ribs. They’ll be ready when my husband gets home from work.” I turned and went to the kitchen. I didn’t talk back like I used to, saying that the $20,000 bride price was actually money I had saved up myself from seven years of working. There was no point in saying it. Even though we all knew that $20,000 was my own money. But once I married into their family, any money became theirs. I dropped out of school at 15 to work. My parents didn’t want me to continue studying and waste time, so they sent me to work in a factory. For the first two years, I sent most of my wages back home every month. Later, as I had more contact with the outside world, I met several girls who, like me, grew up in families that favored boys over girls. We slowly became aware and started sending less and less money home. I had a natural talent for painting since childhood. Although I couldn’t continue my studies, I still paid for adult art classes. Later, I worked part-time as an artist while keeping my day job, slowly saving up money. The first time I met my husband was at a coworker’s wedding. That day I had terrible menstrual cramps. Somehow he noticed and gently offered me a cup of hot water. It was the first time I felt the strange sensation of being specially cared for by someone. After that, it seemed like fate. We kept running into each other every few days. When my husband first started pursuing me, he treated me so well, like I was the most precious thing in the world. In the first half of my life, my husband was the person who treated me the best. I gradually fell deeply in love with him. During our dating period, we were inseparable. I truly believed I would live happily ever after for the rest of my life. When it came time to discuss marriage, my parents demanded a $20,000 bride price before they would agree. My husband said his family had just bought a house and didn’t have the money. He asked me to wait a few years. I couldn’t wait, so I took out my $20,000 in savings and gave it to him. I used my own money to marry myself. It was also because of this $20,000 that my parents later found out I had secretly saved money without telling them. They called me an ungrateful white-eyed wolf. Even when I was abused later, they didn’t lift a finger to help me and instead gloated and mocked me.
Around noon, my husband came home from work. As he walked towards me, I couldn’t help but tremble when he raised his hand. I heard him sneer. Forcing myself to overcome my fear, I glanced up at him. His face wore a smug, triumphant expression at seeing me shudder in fear of him. “Hehe, I’m not going to hit you,” he said. My husband was clearly in a better mood. He patted my head like I was a dog. In his eyes, I was probably no different from a dog that could be abused at will. What did it matter if I was battered and bruised? He didn’t have to pay any price for it. The second time he abused me, I called the police. That was the first time he kicked me in the stomach. The police came, but since there was no substantial injury, they just advised us a bit, criticized my husband, and left. My husband seemed to have gotten a taste for it, knowing he could hit me without consequences. He even searched online about domestic violence and looked for posts about abuse on forums. After learning that as long as he didn’t kill or permanently injure me, domestic violence was considered a family matter that even the police wouldn’t interfere with, he began to test his limits step by step. At first, whenever he was in a slightly bad mood, or if I wasn’t paying attention, he would slap me across the face at any time. People who have never been slapped by a man may not be able to imagine how heavy their hands can be. One slap to the face makes your head buzz, the pain numbing you for several seconds before half your face swells up red. My husband’s limits escalated from slapping to choking me, kicking my stomach, twisting my arms. I fought back once. The most extreme time, when he was hitting me, our daughter came to protect me and he accidentally kicked her. I went crazy and started scratching and biting him. He knocked me out cold with one punch to the head. After that, he seemed to think my life was worthless and his beatings became more and more vicious. The natural physical difference between women and men meant I couldn’t even fight off one of his hands. “What are you thinking about? What, still want to go to the police station to report me?” Seeing my expression change, my husband immediately grabbed my hair tightly. He raised an eyebrow and taunted me contemptuously. “I’m sorry, honey. Don’t be angry. I made the pork rib soup you love.” I endured the pain and forced myself to look up with an obedient smile. My husband snorted and told me to go serve the soup. At the dinner table, I picked out the best ribs for my husband’s bowl and ladled a bowl for my mother-in-law. “Let the money-losing burden gnaw on the bones.” In front of my husband and mother-in-law, I gave my daughter a piece of bone with very little meat. My daughter’s eyes filled with tears but she didn’t dare make a sound. I ladled myself a bowl of soup with no meat, just some vegetables. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother-in-law give me an approving look. In the past, I always protected my daughter and went against her. Now she saw that I had finally “learned my place.” My husband, on the other hand, looked at me with some surprise for a while before picking up his chopsticks like a lord. I stood by like a servant, serving them dishes. … That night, my husband pressed himself on top of me. I controlled my facial expression and actively put my arms around his neck. “Mom said we should have a son soon…” My husband’s touch made me nauseous. He touched the place where he had broken my ribs and pressed down hard. “Ow!” My face contorted in pain, but my husband just laughed at my suffering expression. “It still hurts after more than two weeks? Are you faking it? Want me to feel sorry for you?” I nearly threw up. I endured the pain and kissed him to shut him up. It was like being violated by a dog – no, that’s an insult to dogs. My husband was in high spirits that night. Knowing my ribs hadn’t fully healed, he deliberately pressed on them during sex, getting more excited as I grimaced in pain. He tormented me for half the night before finishing. After showering, he came out looking at his phone and chatting with someone, an evil smile unlike a human’s on his face. I was drenched in sweat from the pain. When I came out of the bathroom after washing up, my husband was already asleep. I saw his phone on the bedside table and, on an impulse, picked it up and unlocked it with his fingerprint.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295985”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #惊悚Thriller #校园School
Leave a Reply