When we got married, the understanding was that we were going to live in my husband’s parents’ house for a while, maybe a few months, until we were able to rent our own place. His parents were lovely people, so I didn’t have a problem with living with them for a while.

There were six people living in the house: me and my husband, his parents, and his two sisters. I couldn’t sleep while my in-laws woke up and did all the work, so I was always the first to wake up to keep the kitchen and the household clean and sometimes cook breakfast before I left for work. A few months later, everybody had left the household chores for me.

They didn’t even bother to lift a finger, especially on weekends. I would be doing the cooking while my husband’s sisters would come in, have a taste of whatever was cooking, and leave. Later, when the food was ready, they would be the first to serve themselves. It started getting annoying, but I knew the only solution was to move into our own apartment.

I asked my husband about it, and he said he’d saved some money but would need a few more months to put together a year’s rent. I told him I’d also saved some money, so we should begin looking for a place together. We did. I found some places, which he didn’t like. One afternoon, he called to tell me he’d found a place, so I should send him the money I said I’d saved to secure it.

I couldn’t access the bank where I was, and it was a Friday too, so on Saturday, I went to the ATM and withdrew GH₵10,000 for him to pay the rent. I went with him to the house to make the payment, but we were told the landlord wasn’t around and would return on Monday. On Monday, I asked my husband if he’d paid the rent, and he said the landlord had already given the place to someone else because we couldn’t make the payment early.

I left my money with him so he could make payment as soon as he found another place. Four months later, we were still living in his parents’ house. One story after another, I found a very good place that was also more affordable than the previous one my husband had found. We went there, and he said he didn’t like it. I insisted that I wanted it. There was nothing wrong with the place, but I felt my husband had grown used to his parents’ house and didn’t want to leave.

I demanded that he give me my money to make part payment. That was when it dawned on me that my husband had used my money. At first, he said he had invested it and it hadn’t matured. Later, he said he had given it as a loan to his dad and couldn’t force his dad to repay him. Out of frustration, I went to his dad and asked about it, and his dad was surprised.

“Me? I took a loan from your husband?” he asked. “Never. Where is he? Ask him.”

My husband couldn’t explain what he did with my money, even to this day. The only thing he gave me was a promise that in a few months, he would pay for a place and we would move. I was filled with regret. The only hope I had of leaving my in-laws’ house had been stolen from me. Two years after our marriage, we were still there. I was doing the chores while his sisters lived like princesses.

When I got pregnant, I begged him to do everything he could to move us out of that house. He said he’d saved some money and that if he had to take a loan, he would do so to ensure we left. At one point, I asked myself, “What does my husband use his money for that he never seems to have any?” It was his father who was providing for the household we lived in. Even the utility bills were sometimes paid by his dad.

I was five months pregnant and still doing the chores in the house. My husband came home to tell me he had lost his job. He said he had been laid off. Then he said somebody had set him up to be dismissed. The stories kept changing until, later, the truth came out. My husband had been involved in financial malfeasance. He stole money from the company, and the company pushed him out.

He was at home all day, but I still had to go to work, come back, and do the chores. His sisters had their own jobs, but even when they were at home doing nothing, they would still wait for me to return from work and do the chores. I stopped. I stayed in my room more often than I joined them in doing anything. They started asking why I didn’t keep the house clean or cook. My husband would come and ask me to do something instead of defending me.

One late evening, I overheard one of his sisters saying, “Is she the only woman who has ever been pregnant that she can’t do basic things?” I was seven months and three weeks pregnant.

The very next day, I started packing. My husband said I was leaving him at his lowest. I told him, “You left me to sink the very day you squandered the rent money.”

I left and didn’t say goodbye to anyone. It was his mom who called to ask why, and I explained that I was too tired of carrying the household. “Why didn’t you ask for help? Just come back home. I’ll personally help you.”

My husband came to my parents’ house to ask me to go home with him. He said that without me, his life would go down the drain. His own family would not respect him. I didn’t go. I stayed with my parents. They took care of me. I didn’t need to lift a finger. Food, safety, and protection were offered freely there.

When I gave birth, they all came to visit. After my maternity leave, my husband said I should come home so he could take care of the child while I went to work. I laughed. I told him the only house I would return to was one he had rented for us. He said, “Where am I going to get the money when I’m not working?”

I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone

He still doesn’t have a job. Our baby is learning to walk. He comes here to eat and also wants to have sex with me in my father’s house. When I don’t allow him, he tells me I’ve taken away his rights as a husband. He doesn’t know what’s coming. It’s not only his rights as a husband that I’m going to take away. I’m going to take away his right to be my husband very soon because this is not a marriage.

—Natasha 

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

******