I used to tell my husband everything happening in my life: how my day went, the lady who annoyed me at work, the man who hit on me despite my ring—everything. When it was funny, we would laugh about it. When it was annoying, he would join me in feeling annoyed. When it was sad, he would reassure me that everything would be alright.

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When I was young, my mom almost cheated on my dad, and he found out. It wasn’t full-blown cheating—she didn’t sleep with another man, but it nearly happened. Honestly, if my dad hadn’t found out, my mom might have gone through with it. This led to a huge problem that nearly ended their marriage. As the first child, I was around eighteen at the time, and I took the issue personally. For the first time, I stepped up and confronted my parents in a way I had never done before.

“Do you want to destroy our lives?” I said through tears. There was a family portrait on the wall—all six of us. I pointed at it and solemnly said, “What happens to us if this is no more? Who will care for us?”

I didn’t even know what I was doing, but it worked. The road ahead was treacherous and painful, but slowly, the bond of their marriage began to unfurl, and they became who they used to be again. I shared this story with my husband, and because it was in the past, we laughed about it.

One day, during an argument, he called me “the daughter of a cheater.” At first, I thought I hadn’t heard him correctly, but then he said, “I wonder why your dad believed your mom. You know she cheated, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you did the same.”

The argument wasn’t even about anything serious. It started because I mentioned that a certain man in our church was handsome and that I admired how close he was to his family. That was all. “What do you mean?” he asked me. “When was the last time you called me handsome? You’re lusting after that man from the way you’re talking about him. Go and destroy his family, daughter of a cheater.”

I was stunned. My mouth hung open as if I were about to swallow the world. At that moment, I decided I was done. I would never share anything with him again. I cried for days and wasn’t myself. Though he apologized later, I had already made up my mind never to let him in on anything happening in my life.

Now, he’s concerned that things aren’t the way they used to be and that I’m not telling him anything. At first, he said I hadn’t forgiven him. Now, he accuses me of hiding things from him. The way he said it even hinted that he thinks I might be cheating. I hated him that day, but I’ve since forgiven him. He said he wouldn’t share anything with me anymore, and I replied, “Okay, you never shared much anyway.”

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Now, our marriage feels hollow. When you scream into it, all you hear is the echo of your own voice. We go through the motions, responding to everything with a noncommittal “hmm.” It’s not that this will push me to share with him again, but I want to know if this dynamic could destroy our marriage. We’ve only been married for two years.

—Adobea

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