I am Jane. But my husband knows me as Esther Jane, the woman he married eight years ago believing he understood her. What he never knew was that behind my smiles, my silence, and my obedience, I was slowly breaking. That night, when I finally spoke, was not planned. It was born from years of swallowed pain, lonely tears, and a heart that had reached its limit.
Mike and I lived in different places over the years because of his work. Sometimes Nairobi, sometimes Thika, sometimes a small town near Naivasha. People admired us. They said we were a “strong couple.” They said I was lucky to have a hardworking husband. What they did not see was the emotional distance, the cold silence, and the nights I cried quietly so my children wouldn’t hear.…CONTINUE READING
