**Diary Entry A Turning Point**
*Who Needs You?*
“Oliver, please, just let me go We tried to build a life together, but it didnt work. Why keep torturing each other? Lets just get a divorce.”
“Not a chance,” he scoffed, his smirk cold. “Youre not leaving. Youre my wife, Im your husbandthats how it is. What, youve got something to complain about? Fallen out of love? Or is there someone else? Answer me when I ask!”
***
Emily sat on the edge of the sofa, fingers nervously twisting the fringe of the throw blanket. After yet another row with her husband, she wished she could vanishdisappear from his life for good. Divorce was an option, of course but she couldnt muster the courage to file. Two years of marriage now felt like a nightmare, especially the last six monthsOliver had morphed into a petty domestic tyrant, finding new reasons to snipe at her daily.
That morning, it had started over something trivial. Emily had ordered a new face cream.
“Wasting money on rubbish again?” Olivers voice cut through the room as she walked in with the parcel. She tried to explain, but he wasnt listening.
“Do you ever think about us, or just yourself? This is why we cant get ahead. My parents couldve used the help, but noyoud rather pamper yourself.”
“Oliver, thats not fair. I workits my money. And I *do* help your parents, you know that.”
“Pocket change! They need real support. Youre selfish, Em. Always spending your wages on potions and rags while the rest of us struggle.” His voice rose, eyes flashing. Emily crumpled into tears. As usual, Oliver slammed the door, leaving her alone with the weight of her helplessness. He always did thispushed her to breaking point, then walked away.
…She remembered how it began. Oliver had seemed perfectattentive, caring, devoted. But slowly, something shifted. Or maybe shed never seen the real Oliver until now.
That evening, he returned to find her sipping tea at the kitchen table.
“Crying again?” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
“No You just hurt me.”
“Your fault. Think before you act.”
“What am I doing wrong?” Emily whispered.
“Everything! I work myself to the bone, and you? Typing away half the day, lounging the rest.”
“I work just as hard,” she protestedthen regretted it.
“Your job? Pennies! *I* provide. You should be grateful. Never even hear a thank you after all Ive done.”
“I *am* grateful But that doesnt mean you can speak to me like this.”
“How *should* I speak to you? Nothings ever good enough for you. And the waterworksChrist, its exhausting. Stop painting me as the villain!”
“Oliver The truth is, youre never happy. Im scared to speak, to buy anything, even to rest. If I nap, you rage at me. I cant take it anymore.”
“Oh, spare me the victim act. Makes me sick.” The disgust in his voice was a physical blow.
“I dont understand,” Emily breathed. “Why are you like this?”
“Just do things right, stop winding me up, and well be fine.”
She searched his eyesno warmth, no love. Only irritation.
“Maybe we should talk to someone a couples counsellor?”
“A *therapist*? *Youre* the one who needs help. Always inventing drama.”
That was the moment she decided to leave. He ate in silence, then stalked off to watch telly. Emily pulled out an old notebook and began drafting an escape plan. Every detail had to be precise.
***
The next morning, she left early, stopping at a café to gather her thoughts. 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*
“Emily?” a voice interrupted. She looked up to see an old schoolmate, Sarah.
“Sarah! Fancy running into you.”
“Been ages. You okay? You look pale.”
Emily hadnt heard kindness in so long. Shed shielded her parents from the truth, and Oliver had isolated her from friends. The dam broke.
“Its Oliver He belittles me, controls everything. Im terrified hell hit me next. I want to leave, but I dont know how.”
Sarah listened, then squeezed her hand. “Come stay with me. Youre not alone. There are helplines, toosupport for women like you.”
“Really?”
“Really. And Emily? Youre stronger than you think.”
By evening, after hours of talking, Emily felt like a different person.
***
Oliver was waiting when she returned, glaring from his armchair.
“Where were you?”
“Out.”
“Out *where*? Seeing someone?” Her blood turned to ice.
“Dont be ridiculous.”
“Arent you the sly one? Wouldnt put it past you.”
“Enough,” Emily said flatly. “We need to talk. About us.”
“Spare me the theatrics.”
“I want a divorce.”
His head snapped up. “*What*?”
“I cant live like this. You make me miserable.”
“Youd be *nothing* without me! Whod want you?”
“Thats not your concern. Im leaving tomorrow.”
“Like hell you are!” He lunged, shoving her against the wall. Her head struck the plaster as she fell. Oliver loomed over her, fist raised. Emily shut her eyes
*I wont be afraid anymore.*
—
**Lesson learned:** Fear wears many masks, but the bravest thing a person can do is choose themselves. No one deserves a cage, no matter how gilded.
