I still remember the day I met my husband, Afolabi. He was charming, handsome, and had a way of making me feel like I was the only person in the world. We fell deeply in love, and I thought our relationship was perfect. But little did I know, his mother, Barbara, (she preferred we called her that) would become the reason I’d leave him.
The sweet moments we shared are evergreen and I wish I could rewind time. On our wedding day, she prayed for me wholeheartedly. I could remember when she added this.
“You will give birth to twins, not once, not twice but three times.”
Every bystander exclaimed more than I did. Afolabi just smiled. His mother read our his thoughts.
My heart throbbed when I saw this strange attitude from Barbara, my mother-in-law.
At first, Barbara was sweet and welcoming. She’d invite me over for dinner, ask me about my day, and show genuine interest in getting to know me. But as time went on, I started to notice a change. She’d call Afolabi multiple times a day, asking him to run errands, fix things around the house, or simply to “check in.” He’d always oblige, saying “Mom needs me.”
“I need you too!” I responded coldly in my heart when he said that.
One evening, as we were preparing dinner together, Barbara called again. Afolabi dropped everything to answer, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen.
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” I asked, trying to hide my frustration.
“It’s Mom, I have to take it,” he replied, not even looking up.
I felt a knot in my stomach. “Jack, we’re married now. Can’t you set boundaries?”
He sighed, “She’s just worried about me, that’s all.”
But it wasn’t just worry. Barbara would show up unannounced, criticizing my cooking, my cleaning, even my clothes. Afolabi would just laugh it off, saying
“That’s just Mom being Mom.”
One day, I’d had enough.
“Afolabi, I need to talk to you about your mom,” I said, my voice shaking.
“What’s up?” he asked, not looking up from his phone.
“Your mom’s obsession with you is suffocating me. I feel like I’m losing myself in this marriage.”
He finally looked up, surprised. “What are you talking about? Mom just cares about me.”
“Cares about you? She can’t even let you breathe without her! I’m your wife, Afolabi. I need you to prioritize me, our relationship.”
He sighed, “I don’t know what to say. Mom’s always been like this.”
I felt tears welling up. “Exactly. And that’s why I’m leaving.”
He looked stunned. “What? No, please don’t go.”
But I knew I had to. For my own sanity, for my own happiness.
As I packed my bags, Barbara showed up, as if sensing her grip on Afolabi was slipping.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“I’m leaving Jack,” I said, my voice firm.
“Your obsession with him is destroying our marriage.”
She gasped, “How dare you! I’m just trying to protect my son!”
But I knew the truth. She was trying to control him, to keep him tied to her apron strings forever.
As I walked out the door, Afolabi called after me. “Please, don’t go!”
But I knew I had to. For myself, for our marriage, I had to break free from Barbara’s suffocating grasp.
As I type this, his calls are coming in. I don’t want to seek any advice. I am doing what exactly what will give him some sense. I planned to give him another week.
It’s been two weeks I left the house. It’s so cool to see his unending remorseful chats and calls. My heart will be opened next week, I guess.
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