Nearly 3 years!
Since the fog began to lift.
Since I finally closed the door not just on a man, but on the shadows he brought with him.
It wasn’t instant.
It never is.
People ask,
How did someone like you end up with someone like him?
Here’s the truth:
They don’t arrive as monsters.
They come as everything you ever wished for.
He was kind at first.
Attentive.
Curious.
He echoed everything I cherished faith, connection, depth.
He observed me carefully, becoming the exact person I’d fall for.
And I did.
I had no idea he was damaged.
He told me I had ‘elevated’ him.
That I was the perfect match to his success.
That we were destined to build a powerful life together.
But it was all smoke and mirrors.
Only after the vows were made did the mask begin to crack.
The erratic moods.
The highs that soared and the lows that shattered.
The lies like claiming I was his third wife, when in fact I was his fifth.
This wasn’t a man in need of saving.
This was a man who had mastered the performance.
A calculated predator, who’d done this before
And knew precisely how to ensnare his next victim.
I loved him.
I prayed for him.
I saw the potential.
I believed the person he pretended to be was simply buried under pain.
That if I loved him enough, fought hard enough, believed enough…
He’d become that man.
But narcissists don’t become better.
They consume.
They wear your skin like a shield, all while crafting your coffin in secret.
He gaslit me into doubting myself.
Trained me to ignore my instincts.
And when I started noticing the truth, the threats began.
He said:
“Obey me and there won’t be a problem. Don’t tell anyone how I speak to you not my parents, not your family.”
Then came the cold blue stare. The squint. The rage hidden behind tight lips. The violent tantrums laced with threats and chaos.
That’s how he conditioned me.
To obey.
To hide.
To protect his image, while I withered away behind closed doors.
When I finally gave him an ultimatum to embody the faith he claimed he did.
But only at the bitter end of our 3 years marriage.
Just enough to say he tried.
Just enough to buy time.
Just enough to plan his exit while pacifying me with hollow apologies.
He said, “I know I shouldn’t treat you like this. I’ll be better.”
But ‘be better’ means ‘stay silent while I prepare to discard you.’
And then the man I prayed for I’d never meet again returned in full force
Angry. Blazing.
Claiming God told him to do what he did to me.
And when I endured him, he punished me for surviving.
My counsellor didn’t mince words:
“If you stay, he will kill you.”
Still, I gave him more chances.
Because trauma bonding is real.
Because religious guilt runs deep.
Because I kept hoping the mask would finally become the man.
But it never did.
And now nearly three years free.
Not just blocked.
Delivered.
Not voiceless.
Heard.
Not surviving.
Rebuilding.
I am not the woman who first met him.
But I am more myself than I’ve ever been.
And to those still trapped in that nightmare
Let this message be your sign:
You are not weak for falling for the act.
You are not foolish for staying too long.
You are not bitter for walking away.
You are courageous.
You are wise.
And you have every right to leave.
This isn’t just survival.
It’s resurrection.
And the life that was stolen from me?
It’s returning.
Original post by Arzo
Well it’s you’re mistake when everyone told you about reality but for uk you expected everything and when you find out it’s not chance I can get what I want you went for asylum again lies and fraud…sad but you have and still your destroying your own life.
Hi,
What a copy paste of the poem and try to become individual which you not. Good work of CHAT GPT and AI wow. Are you claiming something from Government?
Using someone for Asylum
Absolutely wrong
I see your words, but let’s not forget the truth:
You built this story on betrayal.
You used love as a means to an end — not a bond, but a transaction.
This isn’t resurrection.
It’s reinvention to hide the damage you caused.
And the life you claimed was stolen?
You were the one holding the knife.
Visa for a Heart”**
He never closed the door on love.
Never hardened.
Never played the games.
Just a man with an open heart,
believing in something real.
Then she came.
Soft words, warm eyes,
a story wrapped in longing —
tales of hardship, dreams of peace,
a life she said she wanted to build *with* him.
He believed her.
Because he doesn’t see people as angles.
He sees them as humans.
And humans deserve a chance.
She spoke of fate.
Of love crossing borders.
Of how she never met someone so kind.
She called him her *miracle.*
He called her *his future.*
But behind the affection
was calculation.
Behind the gratitude
was a goal.
She didn’t want a man.
She wanted a map.
A way in.
A way out.
A British last name stamped beside a passport.
He remembers now—
how her warmth grew cold the moment the paperwork cleared.
How the sparkle vanished from her eyes when the visa arrived.
How she started staying out later,
taking phone calls in whispers,
smiling at texts that weren’t his.
He confronted her gently.
Still gave her the benefit of the doubt.
Because real love deserves patience.
But fake love only needs a deadline.
And once her place in the country was secured,
she left.
No goodbye.
No apology.
Just the echo of a woman who wore love like a costume
and discarded it once the curtain closed.
And him?
Still standing.
Still honest.
Still refusing to hate.
Because her lies say more about her than him.
He loved truly.
That’s nothing to be ashamed of.
So let them say he was used.
Let them laugh at his trust.
Let them call him naïve.
But he knows:
You lose nothing by loving with purity.
You only lose by pretending to.
And she’ll live with that,
no matter where in the world she runs.
This is the truth you awful women.
You wore love like a borrowed dress,
Just pretty lies — nothing less.
Said “forever,” but meant “until,”
The papers cleared, and time stood still.
You played a saint, but moved like sin,
A heartless game you dressed in skin.
Not love — just plans, cold and clear,
To trade his trust for your career.
He gave you a life, a name, a home,
You gave him silence, lies, and stone.
A passport bride with poison lips,
Who sailed to shore on sinking ships.
But here’s the truth you can’t outrun:
You fooled one man — not everyone.
And while you rise on stolen grace,
You’ll meet your mirror — face to face.