When I agreed to marry my husband, I thought he loved me. I fell in love with his friendship and niceness. He was a very nice guy, with enough sense of humour. Always smiling at me, making me feel like a natural woman.
He loved to show me off on Social media a lot, and in real life too. Not a single day went by without him introducing me to someone, “Oh, and that’s my lovely wife… “ etc.
He was hardworking. He cared about people (well, so he made me believe). He was a medical doctor when we were together. I don’t know if he’s still practising, now that he’s run away.
We were married for just three years, and he aborted five of our pregnancies with pills he gave me, and I never knew. I was just naively trusting a husband who, fortunately for me, was into medicine. Why he married me, I still do not know. But he spent a lot to make his union with me look real and believable.
I remember any time I thought I could be pregnant and felt different, Dr. would examine me and diagnose illness of a sort, and then would bring home prescriptions to treat it. There were times he would make me take a combination of two different tablets or I would simply take just one type of pill.
And then a few hours later I would experience bleeding or cramping; symptoms very similar to my menstrual periods. I usually would read about his diagnosis online, and Google the drugs he would make me take. Not that I didn’t trust his opinion. The fact that I bled, made me want to find out about the medications he was giving me.
Apparently, he would buy those very drugs that cures his evaluation of me, and then would swap the original drugs for abortion pills. So I would be taking an abortion pill in the container or box of a totally different drug. I do forgive him for all he put me through. It’s funny, but I still wear his wedding ring though he’s been out of my life for almost four years now. I don’t know where he is.
