My childhood dreams, pure and naive, seemed to come true by some stroke of magic the moment I turned twenty. And what were those dreams, exactly? Nothing more than the cliché of Prince Charming.
I wanted the lavish wedding, the designer gown, and a handsome groom who adored me. I thought our fairytale was just beginning—a long, wonderful life filled with nothing but happiness. I was so green back then, completely lacking in any real-world experience. While my friends were out there learning the hard way—falling in and out of love, dealing with heartbreaks and bad dates—I was busy planning a wedding with the most incredible man in the world, someone who literally worshipped the ground I walked on.
Julian was twelve years my senior, a detail I found incredibly sophisticated. To me, it meant he’d already “gotten it out of his system.” He was experienced, established, and surely past the point of making me worry about other women. He was a successful painter, looking every bit the part with piercing dark eyes and a physique like a Greek god.
We met at a gallery opening I’d attended with a friend. He was alone, wandering the hall with his hands behind his back, looking lost in thought. When he spotted us, he seemed to come alive and made his way over. One thing led to another, and he invited us for coffee. Julian was witty, charming, and perfectly gallant. After we swapped numbers and parted ways, my friend and I spent the whole night wondering which of us had actually caught his eye. It turned out to be me.
When I told her a couple of months later that I was marrying him, she didn’t take the news well. Having been passed over for the “prize,” she went on the offensive.
— Have you lost your mind? — Chloe shouted, her voice thick with envy. — He’s way too old for you! We all know the type—artists are notorious players.
— You just don’t get it, — I countered. — Plenty of women want a mature man. Julian is stable. He’s grounded, and he’s tired of the dating scene. Besides, we have a spiritual connection you couldn’t possibly understand. That’s what matters most to me.
— It’s insane. Getting married at twenty? You haven’t even finished your degree yet. What if you get pregnant? What then?
— For your information, that’s exactly what I want. I’ll just take a semester off.
— Fine, whatever, — she said, waving me off. — As for me, I’m in no rush. I still want to have some fun.
“She’s just jealous,” I thought. “Let her have her ‘fun.’ I’ve hit the jackpot with Julian.” I felt like I’d have a protector for life. He was so fascinating, while God only knew who Chloe would end up with—if she found anyone at all.
I know now that a person blinded by new love is dangerously overconfident. Or just plain blind. You think the honeymoon phase will last forever, but the truth is, bliss is only a collection of fleeting moments.
The wedding was spectacular. My dress was custom-made by a famous designer who happened to be a close friend of Julian’s; he even served as the best man. I felt so proud being surrounded by the “creative elite”—painters and poets who gave flowery toasts and danced late into the night. They certainly knew how to throw a party.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe, my maid of honor, glued to the designer’s side. she was flirting outrageously, clearly not wanting to let the opportunity slip by.
— You know he’s forty-five, right? — I whispered maliciously when I caught her alone for a second. — He’s been married three times and has five kids.
— I’m not looking to marry him, — she hissed back. — I’d be perfectly happy being his mistress. The man is loaded!
The only shadow over the day was my parents. They were dead-set against me marrying so young, and for some reason, they never took a liking to Julian.
— Honey, — my mother cried. — Why the rush? He’s so much older than you. You barely know the man. It’s a total gamble.
— Mom, if you knew how much we loved each other, you wouldn’t say that. This is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. Look at my friends—they’re all jealous. Mark my words, they’ll get married and be divorced in two years. Julian and I are forever. Can’t you see how he treats me? Just be happy for me!
— Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know how life works. Love fades. And that’s when your eyes finally open to the truth.
But I just brushed her off.
After the wedding, I moved into Julian’s spacious, sun-drenched loft. He spent every day in his studio while I tackled my junior year of med school. Life felt peaceful and perfect.
— Tell me about the guys before me, — Julian asked one evening while we were curled up on the sofa. — I feel like there’s still so much I don’t know… How many men have there been?
I naively admitted that I’d had two semi-serious relationships before him. I didn’t ask him the same question; I was secretly jealous of his past and didn’t want to hear the details.
— And who were they? Were they at the wedding?
— Well, one was. He was an old high school boyfriend. We’ve been friends since we were kids—my first crush, really. The second one… just a guy from my department.
— Is he still in your department? — Julian’s voice took on a sharp, threatening edge. — Come on, tell the truth.
— Yes, — I said, confused by his tone.
— I see. So my wife was already “experienced” before she even graduated high school.
— So what? It’s the twenty-first century. Who waits until their wedding night anymore?
— Fast and loose, weren’t you? And why wasn’t the second guy invited? Still got something going on with him on the side? Tell me!
I had never seen him in such a rage.
— Julian, calm down. Are you actually jealous? I’ve never given you a single reason to be…
— You gave me plenty. Just know this: if you ever cheat on me, I’ll kill you.
— What is wrong with you? Are you sick? What right do you have to talk to me like that? — I was gasping with indignation. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
— The right of a husband! Understand this: I am incredibly possessive, and I’m not going to change. Do you have a photo of that second one? The college guy… what was his name?
— Alex. And no, I don’t have any photos. I tore them all up when we broke up.
— Are you lying? Who dumped whom? It matters to me.
— I dumped him. Are you happy now? — I was exhausted by the pointless interrogation.
— Does he call you? Is he stalking you? Now I know who you’re talking to when you take your phone into the bedroom. It’s him, isn’t it?
— Don’t be ridiculous! — I snapped. — I’m talking to my mother. I go in there so I don’t disturb you. Where is all this coming from?
He didn’t answer, but it was clear he didn’t believe me. After that night, a cold tension began to grow between us. He became paranoid. I caught him several times secretly going through my purse and my coat pockets. When I finally confronted him, he stopped hiding it and started searching my things right in front of me.
Then came the rules. I wasn’t allowed to take my phone into the bedroom. I was only allowed to take calls in his presence. He checked my call logs every single day without shame. He timed exactly how long it took me to get home from lectures. I could only talk to Chloe during breaks at school; grabbing a coffee after class was out of the question. He stopped taking me to his gallery shows, and we stopped seeing friends. We were living like hermits. It was suffocating.
— So, had enough of being a “trophy wife” yet? — Chloe asked one day. — I see he’s got you on a short leash. Why do you put up with it?
I didn’t want to talk about it. I kept thinking of my mother. She had been right—I didn’t know Julian at all. Prince Charming had turned into a monster. His mood swings were getting worse; he was becoming bitter and withdrawn. All the charm he’d used to woo me had vanished.
— Everything is fine, — I lied. — I’m not bored at all. How are things with you?
— Oh, I’ve got a sweet setup! My designer rented an apartment for our “meetings.” We have a blast there twice a week. And I’m seeing another guy on the side. Hey, why don’t we both come over to your place sometime?
I turned red and shook my head.
— Sorry, Julian… he doesn’t really like guests.
One day, I felt under the weather and decided to skip my classes. Julian came home late that evening, looking livid. He sat in the kitchen reading the paper while I washed the dishes. Then, the phone in the living room rang.
I went to pick it up. It was Chloe.
— Look, your husband has officially lost it. You weren’t in class today, so you didn’t see. He showed up at the university and demanded I point out your ex. I did, and you won’t believe what happened. He jumped him. There was a full-on brawl in the hallway. They really went at it. Poor Alex didn’t even know what hit him. Is your husband actually insane?
— Who is it? — Julian demanded, ripping the phone out of my hand.
That was the final straw. I collapsed onto a chair and started sobbing from sheer helplessness. I didn’t want his “mad love” anymore. I realized I hated him. How could one person hold so much malice?
— I had a “man-to-man” chat with your boyfriend today, — he sneered. — He won’t be coming within ten yards of you now.
— You’re psychotic! You’re a bully! A monster!
And then, he hit me across the face.
Sobbing, I ran into the bedroom, grabbed my phone, and dialed my parents. It was late, but I had to get out of that house immediately. I was never coming back.
Finally, I heard my father’s voice.
— Dad, please, you have to come get me right now. He’s going to kill me!
— I’m on my way, — he said firmly.
Two days later, I filed for divorce.
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