Mine

Evelyn

"Be patient," they often say when a married woman speaks out about being harassed. "Maybe he's just stressed from work. Try to seduce him, entertain him."

That's the advice I received, even from those closest to me. Yet, under my own roof, I endured a brutal assault by my husband. When I sought help from my family, the most absurd response I got was that he would change as he got older.

But what about the years of my life that are being wasted?

Initially, I blamed myself, thinking that as a newly married woman, it was my duty to captivate his attention, even at the expense of my own dignity. Over time, however, I recognized that the problem wasn't with me.

I tried to adapt to him, to keep pace with his demands.

But now, I've reached a point of such despair that I'm indifferent to his actions.

"Where on earth is breakfast? I'm going to be late for work!" my husband's voice cut through my thoughts as he sat at the table behind me.

"You know I needed to leave before seven. Breakfast should have been ready when I woke up."

I was standing in front of the kitchen bar, whisking eggs for an omelet, when his voice broke the silence.

"Give me a few minutes, I only have two arms," I replied, keeping my focus on the task at hand.

A teasing exhale came from behind me.

"Did you just answer me sarcastically?"

Lifting my gaze, I met his dark eyes. He possessed a beauty that seemed almost divine, as if all the goodness of his character had been poured into his physical form.

"What do you want me to say, Sungjae?" I said, a note of weariness in my voice.

He frowned, and I let out a frustrated sigh.

"Today we're moving to the new house, and instead of helping me oversee the workers, you're leaving me to handle it alone. What kind of partner does that? For the love of God, what kind of love leaves one to fend for themselves?"

I crossed my arms and returned his gaze evenly.

"I value my career just as much as you do. Yet, here I am, expected to stay and supervise the workers," I stated firmly.

His eyebrows shot up, a clear sign of his surprise.

"Evelyn, how long will you keep this up? Do you think I have nothing better to do than argue?" he challenged, his voice rising.

He slammed his hands on the table, his eyes alight with anger.

"Remember, I can make time to correct you if you step out of line. I don't appreciate this new attitude of yours," he warned.

Our marriage was a six-month-long quiet struggle, a test of patience.

But recently, I've stopped holding back.

"Do you think it makes you more of a man to threaten a woman who can't fight back?"

He rose from his chair, his posture menacing.