Adelaide Oris stood at the edge of her bedroom, her fingers quivering against the hem of her nightgown. The house was deathly quiet around her, except for the soft humming of the air conditioner. She had probably stood there staring at the door for the last fifteen minutes, trying to make herself move out and be confronted by the man on the other side. The man she married. The man who had promised her forever.
Tunde Oris was in the sitting room, strewn on the couch with the television blaring some late-night sports show. Every now and then, his voice broke through the chatter of the commentators as he cursed his team for their below-par performance. Adelaide knew better than to approach him when he was this way. His anger had grown from a passing storm to a constant companion that lived with them all, quite unpredictable and consuming.
But tonight was different. Tonight, she couldn't shake off this sinking feeling in her chest, this weight of dread that leaned upon her. Her mind fled back to their wedding day-a memory that she clung to at times when everything felt unbearable. She could still see the sun streaming through the church windows, hear the echo of their vows as they promised to love and honor each other for better or worse. The concept of "worse" had then been abstract, a faraway possibility they would never have to endure.
But now, standing in her own home, Adelaide realized how naive she had been.
Either Tunde had changed, or she had not seen what he was. The first year of their marriage had been blissful, filled with shared laughter and whispered dreams of the future. He had been attentive, showering her with affection and gifts. Adelaide thought she had found the kind of partner who would make her happy and always be her rock.
The shift was subtle at first. Tunde's critiques, once playful and lighthearted, began to carry an edge. He commented on her choice of friends, her clothes, even the way she prepared his meals. "You're my wife now," he would say, his tone laced with authority. "You should act like it."
She had dismissed it as normal pains of adjustment. Marriage, after all, needed compromise. She was brought up to be patient, to accommodate, to mold herself to fit the mold of the "good wife." But patience became a prison, and compromise turned into surrender.
The first time Tunde hit her, it was over something silly-a forgotten errand, a minor inconvenience blown out of proportion. Adelaide had been stunned into silence, her cheek stinging from the force of his hand. Tunde was overcome with immediate remorse; he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he begged for forgiveness, promising it would never happen again and swearing on everything he held dear.
She had wanted to believe him. She had believed him.
But promises, she was about to find out, were fragile things.
The Cycle of Abuse
As the weeks turned into months, Tunde's anger became a shadow that loomed over their household. Adelaide lived in constant anticipation of the next outburst, her every move calculated to avoid provoking him. She stopped wearing the clothes he disapproved of, distanced herself from friends he deemed "unworthy," and devoted herself entirely to maintaining the peace.
But peace was elusive. Tunde's apologies, though heartfelt in the moment, began to lose meaning; he always found something with which to justify it, whether it was a hard day at work, a financial setback, or just about anything that seemed unfair to him. Adelaide learned not to defend herself as this only escalated the situation.
Her isolation grew. Friends who had earlier filled her day with laughter stopped calling. The messages remained unanswered, testimony to the distance she had built between them. Her family, oblivious to the turmoil she faced, praised Tunde for being a responsible husband. Adelaide felt trapped, smothered by the weight of her silence.
Yet, in the darkness, were glints of light. Tunde's charisma was not completely lost. He could still make her laugh, still make her remember the man she fell in love with. Those moments kept her clinging onto him, convincing her that he could change and that her marriage was worth saving.
The Breaking Point
But it was different tonight; the fight started at the dinner table over a comment about her cooking that turned to insults thrown across the table. Words by Tunde cut deeper than if he slapped her; she'd succumbed to tears, fighting for composure. He left the room, leaving her in the night that dimmed with leftovers and a heart torn into shreds.
Now, as Adelaide stood in the doorway, she felt at a fork in the road: to continue on the path of pretending that all was well, hiding her pain beneath a veneer of acquiescence, or face the truth-a truth she had been running from for far too long.
She felt her hand trembling to reach for the door handle. At a loss for words, she didn't know how Tunde would receive this, but she knew this time she needed to speak up. The very promise they had made between themselves, which was supposed to anchor them in their marriage, was beyond repair.
The door creaked and swung open; Tunde turned toward her, his face a mixture of irritation and apathy. "What now, Adelaide?" he grumbled, reaching for the remote to turn down the volume.
She took a deep breath, her voice shaking with the first words that escaped her lips. "Tunde, we need to talk."
He flung his head back against the couch, his eyes rolling heavenward. "Not this again. Can't this wait till morning?
"No," she said, the firmness of her voice catching her off guard. "It can't."
For the first time in months, Adelaide felt a flicker of strength, a spark of the woman she used to be. She had no idea where this conversation would lead, but one thing was for sure-she couldn't go on like this.
A Glimmer of Hope
As Adelaide confronted Tunde that night, she knew more clearly now that breaking the silence was only the first step into a long, painful journey-a road ahead filled with challenges, but which all the same she was finally willing to take.
That promise, which had once made them stay with each other, became null and void. Yet a new one emerged, whispered by Adelaide to herself: one of survival, of fight, for her freedom, her dignity, and her future.
In that moment, she knew the meaning of real love: to never be pursued under the umbrella of fear.
And thus, with a heavy heart but her spirit still not moved, Adelaide began the initial steps toward winning her life