I stumbled on a story here that stayed with me longer than I expected. A woman had shared how she put her education on hold for eight years after getting married. Now she wanted to “break the eight” and return to school, but her husband wanted nothing to do with it. I felt a rush of thoughts and emotions. My fingers hovered over the comment section, ready to type. Then I paused. I realized a comment wouldn’t be enough. This was bigger than an opinion. It was my story too, a story from the other side.

FOLLOW US ON WHATSAPP CHANNEL TO RECEIVE ALL STORIES IN YOUR INBOX

I’ve been married for almost four years now. My wife is loving, hardworking, and deeply caring. Together, we have two children—a boy and a girl. Our son turns one this Valentine’s Day (yes, that detail is probably unnecessary, but I’m a proud father). Educationally, I recently completed my first degree, so it’s safe to say I’ve been fortunate in that regard.

My wife’s story is different. She never had the opportunity to sit in a classroom. Not even once. No formal education. She can’t read or write. Some people would casually label her “illiterate,” but I’ve always hated that word because it reduces a human being to a single circumstance. When we met at church and became friends before lovers, I already knew her background. It wasn’t a secret. And it wasn’t a deal-breaker. I cared less about what anyone thought.

After we got married, the idea of her going to adult school came up. She embraced it fully. At first, we thought we could do it at home, with me as her tutor. I’m a teacher, after all. But reality humbled us quickly. Between work, fatigue, and the structure she needed, the plan didn’t work.

So I enrolled her in a nearby adult school. Progress was slow, but her determination was unwavering. Then life happened. Pregnancy came, followed by childbirth, and she had to stop. Before she could resume, another pregnancy followed a year later. Education took a back seat again, not because she lacked desire, but because motherhood demanded everything.

Five months after our second child, she started pushing again. This time, with urgency. I re-registered her in September last year. Today, I watch her read words she once feared. Slowly, yes but confidently. She’s improving at an amazing pace. After work, I take care of our son, with help from kind neighbors, even though I also run side lessons with other children.

Thriving In A Relationship When The Man Doesn’t Have Money

I’m proud to be part of her journey. If she wakes up tomorrow and says she wants to be a lawyer, I’ll hold her hand and help her climb every mountain in the way. This, to me, is what marriage should be—two people lifting each other, not sitting on each other’s dreams. Because selfishness collapses marriages, and insecurity kills love long before people notice it’s dying.

—Ben

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.

******