Sandy

The Woman Who Changed She was everything a man could wish for in a wife. Kind, loving, patient. When we married, I felt like the luckiest man in the world. Our days were filled with laughter, our dinners accompanied by warm conversations. She adored our daughter, wrapping her in gentle embraces, singing her to sleep, making sure her world was safe and full of love. Then, one day, everything changed. It wasn’t a momentary outburst of anger. It wasn’t a passing sadness. It was as if a mask had fallen, revealing a woman I no longer recognized. The warmth in her eyes faded. The patience she once had turned to sharp, biting words. And worst of all, she no longer looked at our daughter with love—but with something darker. At first, I thought it was grief. We had lost our son in an accident, a tragedy none of us could have prevented. But she blamed our daughter. Not openly at first, but in the way she stiffened at her voice, the way she recoiled from her touch. Then came the shouting, the accusations, the anger that turned to something worse—violence. She would scream at her for the smallest things. A broken glass, a misplaced toy. And then, one night, I walked in to see her striking the child she once held so dearly. That was the moment I knew—the woman I loved was gone. And whatever had taken her place… I didn’t know if I could save her.