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Open Letter from A Divorced Sister English Story

March 19, 2025

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Open Letter from A Divorced Sister English Story Reflecting on Mistakes: A Lesson for Others

Welcome I’m not sure why I’m writing this. Perhaps it’s because I want to ensure that no one else makes the same mistakes I did. Perhaps it’s because I want to prevent families from breaking apart over trivial issues.

I’m a 19-year-old woman, and my marriage was my own choice. It lasted for two years, and we have a son who is now one year old.

My husband was a good person overall—his character was fine, though he could be a bit stubborn at times, but not always. People might think that our issues arose because of his stubbornness, but I know the real cause didn’t lie in his behavior.

Every marriage has its ups and downs, and we are no different. We had our fair share of disagreements. Whenever an argument arose, I would pack my things and head to my parents’ house. My sisters and brothers were always there, and I would cry and tell them everything. They would, of course, call him and scold him on my behalf. My younger sister would even go as far as to insult him.

At that moment, it felt justified. I felt empowered, thinking, “How dare he try to control me?” I couldn’t even imagine apologizing or admitting my wrongs to him. I would proudly say, “Divorce me! Who would want to live with someone like you?”

But deep down, I never truly wanted a divorce. That was just something I said in the heat of the moment.

One day, during an argument, things escalated. We were both angry, and I was shaking with rage. I said whatever came to mind—insults, curses, everything. Then, in a moment of frustration, he slapped me.

Before that, and after that, he had never raised his hand against me. But that slap—just that one slap—was enough to shatter everything.

I went back to my parents’ house, and as always, I only told them my side of the story. Everyone, based on what I had told them, advised me to file for a divorce.

So, I followed their advice and filed a case for domestic abuse against him. The police quickly took him in, and his family members begged me to drop the charges.

Deep inside, I wondered, “Is my husband really that cruel? Did he ever hit me before? If I hadn’t said all those harsh words, would he have ever raised his hand?”

My parents advised me that if I went back to him after everything that had happened, he would think I was weak. He would gain control over me, and if he had hit me once, he might do it again. So, returning to him was out of the question.

But a part of me kept thinking, “He’s not a bad person. After slapping me, he apologized immediately.” And after reflecting, I decided to drop the charges. However, I didn’t go back to him.

A few months later, both families arranged a reconciliation meeting. Everyone agreed he was at fault, and he was advised by our elders. We decided to give our marriage another chance.

For the next few months, things went well, but then, out of nowhere, another argument broke out, and I packed my things and returned to my parents’ house. Then I heard that he was very sick. My family, however, didn’t take his illness seriously, thinking it was just an excuse.

We had hoped that his family would come to acknowledge his mistake and bring me back with an apology. But no one came.

After a while, he sent me a divorce letter. My family was furious. “How dare he send you a divorce letter after everything he’s done to you?” they said. I also thought, “How dare he?” The memory of his past mistakes flooded back.

Out of anger and a desire for revenge, I thought, “I’ll go through with the divorce. I don’t want to live with someone like him.” I even went to court and demanded an exorbitant amount for maintenance, hoping it would pressure him to come back and beg me to reconsider. But deep down, I never wanted a divorce. My pride was just getting the better of me. I could never go back to him and admit I was wrong. I couldn’t lower myself.

Surprisingly, he agreed to every one of my demands—maintenance, child support, and even a share of his property—all for just a divorce.

It’s been three and a half years since our divorce. He has remarried and seems to be happy. Honestly, I can understand why he has found happiness—he was an uncomplicated man, and many women would be content with a husband like him.

Now, as I look back, I regret some of my actions. Words can be sharper than a knife. He may have slapped me once, but I cut him emotionally with my words. I never told my parents the full story; I never admitted my own mistakes.

Sometimes I think, “What if my family had given me some advice on how to save my marriage? What if they had reminded me of his good qualities instead of just pointing out his faults? What if I hadn’t been so stubborn and had softened a little?” Perhaps I wouldn’t be facing the situation I am today.

Today, my friends, siblings, and acquaintances have their own families, but it all ended for me because of a small mistake. I pray that no one else has to go through what I did.

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