The Truth Game That Destroyed My Marriag

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband and I played Truth or Dare.

He swirled the wine in his glass, half-smiling. "I used to have feelings for your best friend." A pause. "Do you believe me?"

A gust of wind swept through the open window and snuffed out the memorial candle I kept lit for her. The sudden darkness felt like an omen.

His laugh came out too quick, too nervous. "I'm kidding. Relax."

I didn't blink.

"I killed someone."

The silence stretched. Then I added, "I'm not kidding."

——

The color drained from his face. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe the weight of my words finally cut through his haze. Either way, the alcohol seemed to evaporate from his system in an instant.

"Stop it." His voice hardened. "That's not funny."

My fingers dug into his sleeve. "Do you want to know what she said before she died?"

He wrenched his arm away, his expression curdling. The mood was ruined. He stood, turning his back on me.

"Go to sleep. Look at the time."

The bedroom door clicked shut. Through the wood, I heard his muffled mutter.

*Lunatic.*

He was right.

I really was crazy.

I had been crazy from the moment I married him.

---

Five years ago, we were fresh graduates. I was the valedictorian—the one with the brightest future. A prestigious job offer. A boyfriend of four years. A best friend who always put me first.

When I announced the pregnancy and the wedding, everyone showered me with blessings.

Everyone except her.

She had grabbed my hand, her grip desperate.

"Ellie, think about this. *Really* think about it." Her eyes were wide with worry. "Your career is taking off. Three more months and you'll get that promotion. You'll be making a million a year. You'll have *everything*. Why throw it away?"

I pulled my hand free.

"Don't you want me to be happy? You're not married. You don't understand."

Because of the early wedding and the pregnancy, I lost the promotion.

It was a pity. But I didn't regret it. Not then. I was drowning in the sweetness of love, blind to everything else. I thought marriage was the destination. The happy ending.

I walked into that wedding hall full of hope.

I didn't realize I had walked off a cliff.

---

To the outside world, my life was perfect.

My husband was tall, handsome, successful. My son was adorable. I didn't have to work. We lived in a sprawling apartment with a scenic view in the heart of the city.

"You're so lucky," people would say, envy dripping from their voices. "You married such a good man."

But they didn't know.

Our marriage was a stagnant pool, rotting from the inside.

In the beginning, there was passion. We were inseparable. But slowly, the romance evaporated, replaced by the crushing weight of mundane chores. Poetry and dreams were buried under piles of laundry and grocery lists.

My pregnancy was brutal. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep.

At first, he would hold me, his voice soft. "You're working so hard, honey."

But as the weeks turned into months, his patience frayed. My suffering became an inconvenience.

"All women go through this," he said one evening, not looking up from his phone. "Just endure it."

I asked for a glass of water.

He didn't even lift his eyes.

"Can't you see I'm busy? Why are you so delicate? Other women get pregnant without making such a fuss."

A chill settled into my bones.

*Men mature late,* I told myself. *Once the baby is here, he'll change.*

Then came the delivery.

My in-laws—who had ignored my entire pregnancy—finally showed up at the hospital. They didn't ask how I was. They didn't even look at me. They swarmed the baby, beaming with joy, while I lay in the bed.

Exhausted.

Invisible.