There’s a limit to how far hard work can get you. There’s a limit to how much suffering love can make you take.
Intan studied criminology, which means she trained herself to understand the worst in people. She took a bachelor’s degree and graduated with flying colors, then went on to take a post helping women out of abusive relationships and unhealthy environments. She was smart and driven, and she believed in herself.
So when she married her boyfriend of several years, she knew it would work. She had mastered what it took to end marriages through her job, and she was willing to bet that, no matter what, she would be able to protect herself.
Intan lost that bet.
Her husband was smart too, and handsome, and sincere, and kind, and made the little things count in their relationship. But he was also convinced that his wife shouldn’t be allowed to be more intelligent, or more attractive, or more successful than he was.
This was already a troubling conviction for a man to have, but even more so for a man married to Intan, who was always number 1 in school, who worked her butt off to get what she wanted, and who never backed down from a challenge.
She flourished in her career, and in her own skin, and in their community. While she did, her husband grew jealous.
His insecurities seeped into every conversation, blindsiding her at every turn. A simple question would turn into a shouting match. An insignificant comment became accusations and overreactions.
Intan endured as much as she could. She didn’t get as far as she did in life without making numerous sacrifices. Maybe her husband’s behavior was just another one of those sacrifices. An offering to the altar of the gods and goddesses of marriage.
He took her own service firearm one day and aimed it at her. She couldn’t remember the reason (all his reasons for every fight were stupid), but when he made that mockery of her profession, she had to back out.
It’s slowly disappearing—a world where girls can only be wives if they are less than what their husbands are. It’s slowly disappearing but it’s mostly still here.
“After Rain Skies” available via KOBO.COM