Judge Denied My Divorce Petition Again – That Night My Husband Shattered My Bones
The third time I filed for divorce, my husband broke two of my ribs in a fit of domestic violence.
After spending two weeks in the hospital, I returned home. Even the neighbors came to persuade me: “Couples don’t hold grudges overnight. It’s not easy for a man to make money out there…”
I smiled and agreed, “You’re right. My husband is everything. I should always support him.”
I started acting like a submissive wife from the old days, serving my husband hand and foot. Within a few months, my husband made a small fortune. Those relatives and neighbors who had advised me earlier couldn’t sit still anymore.
When I filed for divorce for the third time, my husband knelt down in court, begging me to reconsider.
He even used our 2–year–old daughter as leverage, saying that without me, he and our daughter couldn’t survive.
The judge ruled that our marriage wasn’t beyond repair and dismissed the case, even though I provided a thick stack of evidence of domestic violence.
That night when we got home, my husband grabbed me by the neck like a dog and slammed me against the wall in a fit of rage.
Even as I lay on the ground with blood streaming from my head, he became more excited and continued to punch and kick me.
“Damn it, you bitch! Didn’t I tell you never to mention divorce again?!” he yelled.
“You dare to sue me again?!”
His angry shouts accompanied the dull thuds of his fists and feet hitting my body.
Our two–year–old daughter was too young to understand what was happening. She could only instinctively hear my miserable moans from the
bedroom. She cried and knocked on the door.
“Don’t hit mommy, daddy, don’t hit mommy…
Her crying and knocking irritated my husband. He angrily dragged our daughter into the room and threw her in front of me.
“Ava, if you dare to talk about divorce again, I’ll kill her in front of you first!“\
¡ endured the pain and held our daughter in my arms. The commotion in the house attracted the neighbors.
Seeing that things had “escalated,” my husband started slapping himself and crying, “I’m sorry, honey. I had too much to drink… I can’t live without you and Chloe.”
He alternated between “self–harm” and kneeling to apologize. The neighbors who had gathered around started saying things like, “A man’s knees are worth gold. He’s already apologized. How can you, as his wife, still not know when to stop? Are you determined to tear this family apart?”
Everyone loves to join in on the drama. Almost all the residents in the community squeezed into our home.
After my husband’s apology, the neighbors started comforting him instead. Meanwhile, I, the victim of domestic violence with a bleeding head, was treated as if I deserved it.
It wasn’t until after the neighbors “mediated” that they thought to call an ambulance to take me to the hospital.
When they learned that two of my ribs were broken, I had a mild concussion, and multiple soft tissue injuries, they only said lightly:
“Oh my, Jack, how could you hit her so hard?”
“Men are stronger. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He just had a bit to drink.”
“Rest well and recover. Once you’re out of the hospital, live your life properly. If you don’t provoke him, how could he hit you?”
12:27 PM N
<
Ha, how ridiculous!
Being abused by my husband somehow became my own fault.
After being abused so many times, even my parents couldn’t be bothered to visit me in the hospital anymore.
In this battle for self–preservation in marriage, I was forced to stand against everyone.
It seemed that I could only quietly endure my husband’s abuse, unable to fight back or even “escape.”
Otherwise, I would be seen as inconsiderate, airing out marital problems for everyone to see.
