Done the coaching.
Done the therapy.
Done the Landmark courses.
Done emotional freedom technique.
Done all of it.
None of it worked.
All of it was band-aids on a gushing resentment.
Because the truth is; I fucking hated him.
I hated how he touched me.
I hated how he needed me.
I hated how he looked at me.
And I hated how he masturbated next to me in bed.
And I know that sounds awful; but it’s the truth.
And the worst part?
He kept calling me “wife.”
Even after I said I wanted a divorce.
Even after I told him I’m not available.
Even after I shut down completely.
He kept calling me “wife.”
Because I am Lai Yin.
And that’s the curse.
He just has to say, “I wish we had carrot cake,”
and guess what?
That night, I bring him carrot cake.
I hated that I do it.
I hated that I can’t stop.
I hated that he knows.
And I hate that he never went away.
