⚖️ Judge the Case: I Stole Him, Married Him, Destroyed Him But Was I the Villain?

As they say, all is fair in love and war. I said all was well in love and survival? Perhaps you may judge my callousness or my desire to choose myself. Perhaps I was hasty or harsh, but here is the story of my life. So judge ye, whoever hasn't sinned before should cast the first stone.

Sheye was the perfect man: tall, handsome, and rich. For a young man of twenty-five, he had everything I wanted. I played the perfect girlfriend and ensured he picked no one but me. He was a sucker for smart ladies and, thankfully, I was one. I vehemently pushed myself into his life. I severed the relationship between him and his girlfriend, and I was able to marry him.

At first, we loved blissfully, but we couldn't pretend for long. The cracks began to show. First, it was my job. He wanted me to quit and move across states with him since his job was in a different state. I refused instantly.

He got angry with me and left me with the children. We had four of them, all still in primary school. The workload became too much for me. I got myself the help of a nanny, and I was glad I did.
My husband came back five months later and was furious at the presence of another woman in his house. I refused once again to allow him to send her away.

We lived like cat and rat for three more months before he got tired and returned to work in a different state. He asked me to come along, but I couldn't make it. I had seminars and conferences to attend.
The cracks became more pronounced when he began complaining about the monthly budget I presented to him. He refused to pay all of it and wanted me to cover half the expenses. I refused. He earned much more than I did, and I was saving my money. I won that round again, and he continued paying everything.

I didn't use any of my money to buy even the smallest pin in our house. I called him for every expense, and he delivered. Even our children's school fees—there was a time he begged me to pay my eldest son's college fees. But I refused. The money I had was for an international conference abroad. I couldn't miss it if I wanted to become a professor.

He ended up borrowing the money from his sisters. I couldn't care less. I was a good mother to my children, and he knew it. He shouldn't have gotten married if he didn't want to shoulder all the expenses I placed on him.

His siblings hated me fervently because of this. They were always fake with me. Maybe that was why they all pretended not to know about my husband's infidelity. Maybe they thought I deserved it.
A friend brought me evidence. She had seen my husband with his former university girlfriend—the very one I had separated him from.
I knew it was only a matter of time before he left me for her. I was furious. I wondered how long he had been cheating.
I decided to make him pay for the hurt he caused me. Did he think I was a fool? I was going to make him one.

Thankfully, I got a job in another country. I brought up the idea of us relocating for a better life, especially for our children. I was surprised by how easily he agreed.
I watched him sell our house and a few other properties so he could afford our travel and settlement costs. I was pleased. He virtually had nothing to return to. I made sure he didn't say a word to any of his family members.

When we arrived in the new country, I confronted him about the infidelity in front of the children. They all got angry and demanded he leave the house he had bought for us. I knew he couldn't sue for divorce if he didn't want to sink further into poverty. I starved him financially and gave him an ultimatum to leave my house.
All of my children except my first and last son supported me. I guess it was because they were men too. I didn't care. They could follow him if they wished.

He got his own apartment soon after. It irked me that he could recover so quickly. But he did. My sons stopped speaking to me. They moved out to live on their own.

I was left alone with my girls. I had a higher-paying job now, and everything seemed to be going well now that I had my revenge. But I can't help but wonder, after a few years, if what I did was right. He was, after all, the father of my children. I had somehow managed to make two wrongs feel like a right.

This is a fictional story, thanks. Comments are welcomed.