It was the naming ceremony of our twins. The day had been beautiful and by evening, most of the guests had left, except for a few of my husband’s close friends. They were outside, drinking, laughing and catching up.

Inside, my sister, my best friend and I were cleaning the house, washing up and caring for the twins. The babies had finally fallen asleep, so I decided to go downstairs to check on my husband and ask if he needed anything before my sister and best friend left. I was tired and ready to go to bed.

As I approached the kitchen door, I heard my husband’s voice. He was talking to his friends, laughing as he complained about me.

He said, “She’s gotten so fat now. She always looks unkempt and she smells of breast milk.”

Those words, from the man who watched me carry our twins for nine months. From the man I had been cleaning for, caring for, supporting, just a week after giving birth.

I quietly turned around and went back upstairs. I locked the door to our room and cried myself to sleep. ImMy heart was too heavy. By morning, I had made up my mind.

I bathed quickly, packed a few of my things and drove with the twins to my parents’ house. I stayed there for a month and two weeks. During that time, I found peace, I was genuinely happy, I registered at a gym, got lots of help from my siblings and began to feel like myself again. My husband kept calling and texting. He came to the house several times, but I told my family I didn’t want to see him. I wasn’t ready.

After over a month apart, I returned to our home. He was waiting for me, desperate to talk. He asked, “Why would you pack your things, take the twins, and leave without saying a word?”

I looked at him and replied, “If you truly loved me, why did you say all those things about me to your friends, on the night of our twins’ naming ceremony? Why didn’t you help me around the house or get someone to assist with the cleaning and the babies? Why didn’t you care that I hadn’t been sleeping?”

I told him I was deeply disappointed in him. That I no longer trusted him and that, honestly, I didn’t even know if I wanted to have another baby with him.

He apologized sincerely and admitted he had been childish. He promised never to speak about me that way again and swore he’d do better, for me and the twins. I forgave him, but I stayed at my parents’ house for two more weeks.

Now, I’m back home, but I’m watching him closely.

Any small thing that doesn’t sit right with me then it’s over.

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