I was just 23 when I went to my father’s best friend’s son’s wedding. That’s where I met a close friend of my father, someone who had just moved back to Lahore from Jeddah. A few days later, he called my father, saying his wife wanted to visit us. I wasn’t even home when they first came, but they saw my pictures and that was apparently enough. They returned the following week, again under the pretense of a friendly visit. I had no idea they were scouting me for marriage.
They came off as polite but reeked of fakeness. Soon after, my parents showed me the guy’s pictures. Yes, he was good looking but I wasn’t interested. I said no. Repeatedly. But did it matter? No. My parents forcefully got me engaged to a man I barely knew and absolutely didn’t want. For two whole years, the wedding was delayed over and over. The guy didn’t bother to speak to me except once. one conversation in two years. That was my red flag, but no one cared how I felt.
I was terrified of what married life with a stranger like him would be. But shockingly, the first month after the wedding felt like a fairytale I thought maybe I was wrong. He was kind, gentle an angel, even. Then reality came crashing down. His vacation ended, and he moved back to Saudi Arabia. My visa process began. Meanwhile, his sister got engaged and was set to marry within 3 months. My visa arrived in 2 months, but I had to wait for her wedding before I could leave.
He came to Pakistan for the wedding and he was a different man. Not the man I married. He screamed, shouted, emotionally abused me every time I asked for basic affection or attention. Then he humiliated me by leaving me behind like luggage, flying back to Saudi alone and abandoning me at my parents’ home. And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, his mother faked a panic attack and manipulated him into believing disgusting lies about me. The drama escalated to the verge of divorce but his parents stopped it.
Not for me, but for their image. A month later, I finally joined him in Saudi and that’s when the nightmare truly began. He locked me inside the apartment like I was a prisoner. Forced me to wear an abaya even at home. He had seven cats crawling around the house knowing I’m terrified of animals. He would leave early, work all day, hit the gym, then spend all his time with those cats. I was invisible. Untouched. Unwanted. Unloved. I came back to Pakistan for my brother’s wedding.
The moment I landed, his parents were at the airport and literally abducted me before my own parents could reach me. They humiliated my parents at the airport like it was a Bollywood villain scene. My husband cut off all contact except when it came to reminding me about monthly expenses like I was some unwanted burden. It’s been 4 months now. No contact. No apology. No explanation. My parents, the same ones who forced me into this hell, now tell me: “It’s your life, do what you want. Get a divorce if that’s what you decide.”
Excuse me?! Was it not my life when you pushed me into this forced marriage to begin with?
Question: What should I do now?
Option 1: Walk away and never look back
Option 2: Try one last time to save this broken mess of a marriage