When I was first pushed out of bed, I thought it was carelessness, but now I’ve decided to file for divorce.
In a small town near Valladolid, where the winter winds howl like harbingers of misfortune, my life, which began with dreams of happiness, turned into a nightmare. My name is Lucía, I’m twenty-seven years old, and just a month ago I married Javier. But what happened on our first New Year’s Eve together was the final straw. I’ve decided to get a divorce, and my heart is torn between pain and determination.
**A story that turned into a trap**
When I met Javier, I thought I’d found the love of my life. He was charming, attentive, with a sparkle in his eyes. During our year-long relationship, every day was filled with laughter and plans. He promised me a family, a cozy home, and children. I believed him with all my heart. The wedding was simple but warm; our family members were happy, and I felt on top of the world. However, just a week after we were married, I began to notice oddities in his behavior, which at first I attributed to fatigue or stress.
The first warning sign was when, after drinking too much at a get-together with friends, he abruptly pushed me away while trying to drive him home. I thought it was a mistake, that I’d just had one too many to drink. But then, these “coincidences” kept happening again. Javier would raise his voice if I didn’t do things his way. His sweet words turned cold, his hugs indifferent. I tried to convince myself it was temporary, that we were just adjusting. But the first morning of the year shattered all my hopes.
**The nightmare of January 1st**
On December 31st, we celebrated New Year’s Eve alone. I prepared a special dinner and decorated the house, imagining it would be the beginning of our life together. Javier was in a good mood; we toasted with champagne and laughed. But as midnight approached, he drank more and more, and his joy turned into aggression. When I suggested we go to sleep, he yelled, “Don’t spoil my party!” I retreated to the bedroom, hoping he’d calm down.
At dawn on New Year’s Day, a sharp shove woke me up. Javier, his eyes red from the alcohol, ruthlessly threw me out of bed. I fell to the floor, pain rippling through my body, but his words hurt even more: “You’re bothering me, get up and do something useful.” I lay still, not believing what I was hearing. That wasn’t my Javier, not the man I had married. I tried to speak, but he just turned toward the wall, ignoring me.
**The truth that hurts**
That episode wasn’t an isolated incident. Within a month of our marriage, I realized Javier wasn’t who I thought he was. His “accidental” shoves, his harsh words, his indifference to my feelings—those weren’t mistakes, but his true nature. He would humiliate me in front of his friends if dinner wasn’t to his liking, calling me “useless.” He demanded that I adapt to him, regardless of my wishes. At twenty-seven, I felt like an old woman trapped in a cage.
My mother, Carmen, cried when I told her the truth. She begged me to hold on: “Lucia, marriage is a job, give it time.” But how can you put up with someone who doesn’t respect you? How can you build a family with someone who sees you as a servant? I tried to talk to Javier, but he only mocked me: “Don’t exaggerate, you’re too sensitive.” His indifference devastated me.
**The decision that will save me**
Yesterday I made a decision: I’m going to get a divorce. It scares me—I never imagined that, at twenty-seven, I’d be alone, with a broken heart and shattered dreams. But it’s scarier to stay with someone who destroys me. I don’t want to live fearing that the next push will be stronger. I don’t want to wake up thinking my life is a mistake.
My friends are supportive, but some, like my mother, say, “Think about it, maybe he’ll change.” But I know Javier won’t. His mask fell, and I saw who he really was. I deserve better—love, respect, security. Even if I’m alone, even if they gossip behind my back, I choose my dignity.
**A step into the unknown**
Divorce isn’t an end, but a beginning. I believe I’ll find the strength to rebuild my life. Perhaps I’ll resume my dream of becoming a designer, or travel the Camino de Santiago. I’m young, and I have time. My pain is the price of freedom, and I’m willing to pay it. Javier thought he could break me, but he was wrong. I’m not his victim—I’m a woman who knows her worth.
This story is my cry for dignity. I married for love, but I’m leaving with determination. Maybe the first day of the year was a nightmare, but it also brought me clarity. I won’t let anyone else push me—not out of bed, not out of my own life. I choose my path.
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