Three weeks of marriage and thoughts of divorce

Three weeks of marriage and thoughts of divorce

I’ve only been married for three weeks, but I can’t take it anymore. I want to file for divorce because every day with Javier becomes a trial that breaks my heart. My mother, Elena Martínez, keeps telling me: “Lucia, wait, don’t destroy so quickly what you’ve just built. Give it time, everything will fall into place.” But how can I wait when I already feel like I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life? I loved Javier, I thought we would be happy, and now I ask myself: How could I have been so wrong?

When we were dating, everything was like a fairy tale. He was attentive, brought me flowers, sent me loving messages, and promised we’d have the family I’d always dreamed of. I saw him as the man I’d raise children with, travel with, and laugh at. Our wedding was three weeks ago—beautiful, with a white dress, dancing until dawn, and toasts to eternal love. Then I’d look at him and think: Here’s to my happiness. But as soon as we started living together, the fairy tale turned into a nightmare.

The first messages arrived the day after the wedding. We returned from a brief honeymoon, and Javier, instead of helping me unpack, lay down on the couch with his phone. “Lucia, I’m tired, you do it,” he said. I let it go, thinking he’d be exhausted. But then it became a habit. He doesn’t do the dishes, leaves his socks all over the house, and when I ask for help, he replies, “You’re my wife, it’s your obligation.” My obligation? I work too, I get home as late as he does, and yet I cook because “he doesn’t like takeout.” I thought marriage was about a team, not serving someone.

But there’s more. Javier has begun to show a temper I hadn’t seen before. He gets irritated by everything: if I leave a cup on the table, if I ask him to take out the trash, or if I want to talk about something important. A few days ago, I tried to discuss our plans—saving up for a car, celebrating our anniversary—but he cut me off: “Lucia, don’t bother me, I’ve already had enough.” What’s wrong with him? Looking at his phone on the couch? I look at him and don’t recognize the man who swore to always love me.

What hurts most is how she treats me. Yesterday, while I was cooking tired, she came into the kitchen and said, “The stew doesn’t taste like my mother’s.” I almost threw the ladle at her. Doesn’t it taste like her mother’s? Then she can go to her! I tried to please her, but I didn’t even get a “thank you.” And then she added, “And you could take better care of yourself; you look like a grandmother in that robe.” It was the final straw. I’ve been married for three weeks, and she’s already criticizing my appearance. I locked myself in the bedroom and cried all night. Not because of her words, but because I understood: this isn’t my Javier. He’s a stranger I don’t want to live with.

I called my mother and told her. Elena Martínez listened to me and said, “Lucia, marriage is a job. You’ll adapt, he’ll change, and so will you. Don’t rush into divorce, give him a chance.” But what chance? I don’t see any desire to change in him. He doesn’t apologize, he doesn’t help, he doesn’t value me. I feel like a maid, not a wife. Mom says I’m very sensitive, that all couples go through this. But I don’t want to “go through it.” I want to be with someone who respects me, not someone who thinks I have to please them.

This morning I told Javier, “If this keeps up, I’ll get a divorce.” He looked at me as if I was joking and replied, “Come on, Lucía, don’t exaggerate. It’s not that big a deal.” It’s not that big a deal? Maybe for him, but for me it’s hell. I don’t recognize myself. Where is that cheerful, confident girl who danced at the wedding? Now I’m just trying to please someone who doesn’t seem to care.

I’m starting to seriously think about divorce. I know it will be difficult—explaining it to the family, dividing things up, starting from scratch. People will murmur, “Three weeks married and already divorced. What kind of woman is she?” But I don’t care. I don’t want to live with someone who makes me unhappy. I dreamed of a family, not being a servant. If Javier doesn’t change, I’ll leave. I’d rather be alone than with someone who doesn’t value me.

Deep down, though, I’m still waiting. What if Mom’s right and it’s just a matter of adapting? What if Javier understands he’s losing me and makes an effort? I’ve given myself a week. If nothing improves, I’ll go to the lawyer. In the meantime, I try to hold on, even though every day with him is a test. I look at our wedding photo and think: Where is the Javier who promised me happiness? How could I have been so wrong? But I know one thing: I deserve better.