I Married a White Man and Moved to the UK—What Happened Just Months Later Left Me Shocked

When I thought I had finally found my soulmate, I gave up everything and moved to the UK because of him. I believed it was the beginning of a new chapter, a beautiful life where love and respect would grow between us. I was hopeful, excited, and ready to build a home with the man I thought loved me.

But only two months after moving here, that dream shattered. He turned violent. One day, without warning, he punched me several times in the face. He pressed his hands around my neck, strangling me until I could hardly breathe. In that terrifying moment, I truly thought I was going to die in the hands of the man I trusted with my life.

From then on, my name was no longer my name. Insults replaced the way he spoke to me. “Bitch,” “f***ing animal,” “fat,” “Nigerian scammer”—those were the words that followed me every day. That was how he made me feel small, worthless, and ashamed of who I was.

And yet, I was not a nagging wife. Heaven knows I tried everything to make it work. I swallowed my pride, I apologized even when I was innocent, I begged for peace, but nothing ever changed.

He met all my family back home, but he never once let me meet his. That should have been a warning sign, but I was blinded by love. Instead, he made fun of me. He said my hands looked like a monkey’s.

He told me I was too dark, that his children were smarter than me, that I was dumb, and that my brain was useless. Those words became like a song in our home, repeated so often that I almost started believing them myself.

A few months later, he slapped me again. Around that same period, I lost my father. I was grieving deeply, trying to hold myself together while mourning the man who raised me. Instead of comforting me, he kept breaking me down with his words and his hands. I was crushed on the inside, living with pain upon pain.

In time, I completely lost myself. I could no longer recognize the woman I used to be—the woman who once had dreams, confidence, and joy. Everything in me was fading away. Eventually, I found the courage to move out. Just two weeks after I left, instead of reflecting or showing remorse, he filed for divorce.