Okunade Saheed

THE SILENCE AFTER THE VOWS

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CHAPTER ONE — The Honeymoon of EchoesI sometimes believe my marriage ended before it even began—quietly, cruelly, and without my permission. If I had understood the language of silence two weeks after my wedding day, I would have run. But I didn’t. I was raised on the belief that love survives storms, that marriage is sacred, that a woman endures. So I stayed… and I paid for it with years I can never reclaim.Before the wedding, he was everything a hopeful bride dreams of: gentle, attentive, generous to a fault. He held my hand like it was a fragile treasure; he looked at me as though I was the answer to a prayer he never dared to say aloud. My friends envied me; my mother said I was blessed. I believed it too. Why wouldn’t I? Love had never looked so warm.But all of that died on our honeymoon.He drove us to a lake nearly three hundred miles away—a place he said was peaceful, a place he swore I would love. The first sign that something was wrong came on the drive. He didn’t speak. Not a word. Not a sigh. Only the sound of the road beneath us and, strangely, his quiet sobs. His hands trembled on the steering wheel. Every now and again, he wiped his eyes.At first, I thought it was joy, nervousness, exhaustion something explainable. But when I reached out to touch his arm, he jerked away from me as if my fingers burned him.“What’s wrong?” I whispered.He didn’t answer.My heart thudded with a panic I didn’t yet understand. I tried again, but he kept his face turned toward the window, miles of silence growing between us.When we arrived at the hotel, he managed one single sentence:“I’m just glad to have time off work.”Nothing more.Inside the room, he sat on the couch, eyes fixed on the television as though I wasn’t there. He slept there too, body curled away from mine, as if the vows we exchanged days before belonged to strangers.Three days passed like that.Three days of unanswered questions.Three days of quiet tears I cried into the pillow while his back remained turned to me.Three days of pretending to be newly married when inside I felt abandoned, confused, and suddenly… painfully alone.I don’t even remember if we ate at a restaurant. I only remember the numbness a thick, heavy fog that wrapped around my heart until I could no longer recognize the girl who had walked down the aisle.I was from Spain. My mother had traveled so far to witness my joy. While we were away, she visited one of his friends, proud of the daughter she raised. In my culture, marriage is sacred, unbreakable, a covenant blessed by God and guarded by family. But nothing about what I felt in that hotel room was sacred. It was cold. Wrong. Unnatural.I kept asking myself the same questions:Is he depressed? Did I do something? Did someone say something? Why won’t he look at me?He gave me no answers. Not one.When we returned home, he slipped back into routine as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t shattered something inside me. As if the honeymoon was a dream only I had witnessed.My mother left for Spain, kissing me goodbye with worried eyes she tried to hide. And I… I stepped unknowingly into the darkest years of my life.But that is where the story truly begins, the years when I realized I had married not a man, but an illusion… and the price I would pay for ignoring my own spirit.If you’re in a place where your heart is whispering leave, then leave before your soul learns to live without light.If something can be fixed, time will reveal it. But if your gut screams run, follow it.It will never betray you.I didn’t listen.I stayed.And I suffered under the grip of a man whose charm hid a malignant narcissist. I lost time, years, and eventually even my own children to his manipulation. CHAPTER TWO — The Masks That Love Wore People often say that monsters reveal themselves slowly, peeling away their disguises layer by layer. But the truth is harsher, they reveal themselves the moment they think they are safe. And marriage made him feel safe. A week after the honeymoon, his sweetness returned like a familiar melody. He smiled again. He laughed again. He even brought me flowers, white lilies, the same ones he held the night he asked me to marry him. The sudden shift left me dizzy, torn between relief and suspicion. “See?” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Everything is fine.” But the lie was too smooth. His tenderness felt rehearsed, perfectly timed. As though he sensed my confusion and wanted to seal my mouth before questions could form. I wanted to believe him. God knows I did. I wanted to pretend the honeymoon had been nothing more than exhaustion or stress. I wanted to erase the memory of his turning away from me… his silence… his coldness. In my culture, you fight for your marriage. You build it. You endure. So I swallowed my doubts, tucked away the ache in my chest, and tried to rebuild what never truly existed. But the shadows always return. To be continue....................................................

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