Afterward, Ricky cried as he held me, promising he'd be grateful forever. He swore he'd take care of me and treat me well.
For a while, he did. He changed and pursued me seriously.
After college, I finally gave in and agreed to be with him.
At first, things were great—he was sweet and caring said he'd always protect me.
But not even two years into the marriage, everything changed. He started looking down on me—especially my face.
He'd cover it with a pillow or some clothes, and he kept telling me to work out, to look better for him.
And he loved buying me lingerie.
"What's wrong? Can't bear to take it off?"
Ricky smirked, snapping the strap of my bra.
He expected me to get flustered or angry, but I didn't give him the satisfaction. I took off the bra, threw on a T-shirt and coat, and dragged my suitcase out.
"Tomorrow at nine. Meet me at the Marriage Bureau. Don't worry—I'll leave with nothing. I don't want a single penny from you, Ricky."
I slammed the door and left, hearing his rage explode inside.
I found a cheap hotel to crash for the night. By nine the next morning, I was waiting outside the office without having breakfast.