When I married Miriam in Brooklyn, I really thought I’d hit the jackpot. She was so gentle and quiet, always praying in the morning and speaking softly. People in our community admired how humble she seemed. She never got angry and treated everyone kindly, especially me. After experiencing some tough relationships in the past, being with her felt like a real blessing.
Things started out excellently. Our home felt calm. Dinners were nice and simple. She supported my job and encouraged me through everything, and we hardly ever fought. If something came up, she’d just smile and say peace mattered more than winning an argument. I bragged to friends about having no drama at home. There was no yelling, no big demands. It seemed ideal.
But after a few months, I noticed odd things around the neighbourhood. Neighbours would hush up when I walked by. Some women avoided eye contact or gave me these pitying looks. Kids sometimes whispered and scattered. At first, I figured it was just envy over our joyful life together. But it kept happening, and it started weighing on me.
Miriam stayed the same—sweet and steady. Yet I’d catch her up late, sitting in bed, murmuring quietly. She’d tell me it was prayer time. I respected that, but it made me a little uneasy. She began warning against having people over, claiming they brought bad vibes. Slowly, without me seeing it, my circle got smaller. Friends drifted away. Read more https://drbokko.com/?p=35483
