How Our Broken Marriage Found Love Again

Our five-year marriage ended over three years ago. During our last argument before the divorce, he said, “I realized the mistake of marrying you the day we returned from our honeymoon. Deep down, I knew you weren’t the right choice for a wife, but I hoped you would prove me wrong. Clearly, I was right.” His words struck me deeply, and I couldn’t let him leave without a response. I replied, “I once dated the devil, and honestly, he was better than you. I would choose him over you any day.”

Both of us were in pain and felt the need to unleash our hurt, even if it meant wounding each other with our words. That day, he packed some of his things and left. Our four-year-old daughter cried, pleading for him to stay. She held his hands, saying, “Daddy, please don’t leave me here.” I expected him to comfort her, but he simply pulled away and walked out. It was 9:45 PM. I took my sobbing daughter to the kitchen, and we prepared some food together. She continued to cry, asking when Dad would return. I reassured her, “He’ll be back very soon, don’t worry.”

Two weeks later, he brought the divorce papers and came to collect the rest of his belongings. That day, I begged him not to try to take our daughter from me. I said, “I know we’re both angry, but let’s think of her. I’ll keep her with me, and you can visit anytime and take her wherever you want, but please bring her back by nightfall.” He didn’t respond, but I could see in his demeanor that he accepted my terms.

Soon, the court finalized our divorce. The process was emotionally taxing, but we were both determined to end the marriage. I remember during the hearing, the magistrate asked why I was leaving. I said, “That man over there is very abusive. For the past five years, I’ve lived in fear of his temper and how he would lash out over trivial matters. I was suffocating, and I refuse to live like that anymore. I need peace and my life back.”

That was a lie. He never abused me, but I had heard that claiming abuse could expedite the divorce process, so I used it. I was surprised when he didn’t contest my statement. He didn’t call me a liar or argue; he was ready to move on.

Six months after the divorce, our daughter celebrated her sixth birthday. I called him to discuss plans for her celebration. I asked, “Would you like to join us?” He replied, “It’s better if we do it together for her sake. We owe her that much.”

I prepared the food while he brought the cake and drinks. Neighborhood kids joined us for the celebration. When it was time for him to leave, our daughter began to cry, begging him to stay. I suggested he take her with him, but she refused to go. He said, “I don’t have a room here, so I have to go to my own place.” She insisted, “You can sleep here in our room.” He was torn between leaving and staying. I told him, “You can stay if it doesn’t bother you.” He agreed, saying, “I’ll stay and put her to sleep before I leave.”

I cooked, and we all sat around the table, eating like we used to. We watched TV together, reminiscent of the past. It didn’t feel exactly the same, but there was a sense of déjà vu. At 9 PM, our daughter was still awake. By 10 PM and then 11 PM, she was still up. Around midnight, I came out of the bedroom to find him asleep on the couch with our daughter. I left them there and went to bed.

This pattern continued. Each time he visited, it became harder for him to leave, and he would end up staying longer until he fell asleep. One day, he apologized, saying, “I’m sorry if my staying here is causing you any inconvenience. I can’t bear to see her cry.” I replied, “I’m not bothered at all. Remember, you rented this place?”

One evening, a guy asked me out, and I was eager to go. It had been nearly two years since our divorce, and I missed the feeling of being loved. I called my ex-husband and asked him to take care of our daughter while I went out. He couldn’t take her because his place wasn’t suitable, so he agreed to come over and spend the night with her.

As I got ready to leave, he remarked, “It looks like you’re going somewhere important.” I asked, “Why do you say that?” He replied, “Your outfit.” I inquired further, and he brushed it off, saying, “Oh, nothing. Don’t mind me.”

His gaze followed me as I moved around the house. When I finally walked out the door, I could feel his eyes on me. I returned home late, and he was lying on the sofa. He woke up when I entered, possibly from the sound of the locks. I greeted him and went straight to the bedroom, where I found our daughter sleeping peacefully.

The next morning, he asked, “Are you seeing someone? Not that I care, I just want to know how to manage my time here.” I chuckled and said nothing. He pressed on, asking if there was someone in my life. Eventually, I admitted, “There’s a guy I’m considering.” He nodded, and when I asked if he was seeing anyone, he replied, “No, there’s no one. I’m not even trying to see if someone is worth it.”

That day, he lingered longer than usual. He played less with our daughter and spent more time talking to me. When he got home, he sent me a message saying, “I’m home.” I was taken aback since he had never done that before. I replied, “Cool.” The next morning, he texted again, asking how our daughter was doing. I told him, “If you want to know, you can come by and see her.” Within the hour, he was at our door. His focus was less on our daughter and more on me. We talked and laughed, and when it was time for him to leave, I walked him to the street—something I had never done before.

The following day, he returned. The day after that, he came again. After work on Monday, he stopped by and spent the night with us. There was an unspoken tension between us, but we ignored it until one morning he walked into the bedroom and called me to the hall. “Do you mind if we try again?” he asked. I pretended not to understand, “Try what again?” He said, “Being together makes me realize what I’ve missed. I want that back. We have a daughter; she needs us, don’t you think?”

He leaned in to kiss me, and I hesitated. “Are you sure about this?” He tried again, and this time I kissed him back. We lost ourselves in the moment, breathless. “Let’s give it another shot, please,” he urged. I asked, “You mean we should get married again?” He nodded.

The next day, he brought one of his bags and left it in the bedroom. A week later, he returned with another bag, and soon he brought back everything he had taken. Our daughter looked at the bags and asked, “Is Dad coming to live with us again?” I nodded, and before I knew it, tears filled my eyes. I quickly wiped them away.

We are certain we want to remarry but are unsure where to start. We’ve been back together for a year now, yet we haven’t made anything official. Neighbors and friends know we’re back together, even if we haven’t told them. What we have now doesn’t have a label, but it feels so good that I wish it could stay this way.

What if we remarry and the weight of that title drags us down again? I asked him, “If we do this again, what vows will we say since we broke the first ones?” What we have now resembles the early days of our relationship. We don’t fight or argue; we take it one day at a time, continuing to love each other anew. Will love still feel this way if we go through the process again? I don’t know, but he’s confident nothing will change, so I’m choosing to believe him. In December, on my birthday, we’ll make everything official and start again from where we left off.

—Eli  
Kindly SHARE this story. Someone on your timeline needs it.  
Do you have any relationship experiences to share? Email it to editors@etechx.co.ke  
Like our Facebook page to stay updated on new posts.