WHEN LOVE TURNED BRUISES Episode 3

There was a time I realized I was no longer scared of Kunle and that realization terrified me more than the bruises ever did.

Fear had once kept me careful. It made me cautious with my words, slow with my movements. But after months of fighting, fear grew tired. It hardened into anger. I woke up angry. I slept angry. I carried rage like a second skin, tight and suffocating.

Kunle noticed the change before I did.

I no longer cried easily. I no longer begged. When he shouted, I shouted back louder. When he insulted me, I laughed at him in a way that cut deeper than tears ever could. I saw confusion on his face sometimes, like he no longer recognized the woman he married.

Neither did I.

The beating that changed everything happened on a Tuesday evening. I had come home late from work, exhausted and mentally drained. Kunle accused me of disrespect, of neglecting him, of behaving like a woman without a husband. I replied sharply. Too sharply. Something snapped in him.

He didn’t stop until I collapsed.

As I lay on the cold floor, my body aching, my lip split open, I stared at the ceiling and felt nothing. No tears. No fear. Just a deep, burning rage. In that moment, I understood a dangerous truth: I was capable of hurting him back not just with words.

That night, while he slept, I packed a small bag. I didn’t pack clothes for the future; I packed clothes for escape. I called my sister in a whisper and told her everything for the first time. She begged me to leave immediately. She said she would come for me in the morning.

Morning came, but I stayed.

Kunle woke up different that day. Soft. Regretful. He knelt and cried like a broken child. He blamed stress, work pressure, life. He swore he would change. He reminded me of the woman he once was to me and the future we had planned.

And I believed him.

Not because I trusted him but because I was tired. Tired of explaining. Tired of running. Tired of starting over. Staying felt easier than leaving, even if it was slowly killing me.

From that day, something dark settled inside me. I became watchful. Calculated. I stopped seeing Kunle as my husband and started seeing him as a threat. Every argument felt like a countdown. Every raised voice felt like a warning bell.

Love was gone.

What remained was tension, anger, and two people waiting for the next explosion.

I didn’t know then that marriages like ours don’t heal.

They don’t calm down.

They only escalate until someone breaks, or someone dies.

Continue reading Episode 4