Locked Doors, Open Eyes

I met Collins during a rough patch in my life. He seemed kind and supportive, and after a year of dating, he proposed. We moved into

his mother’s home to save money, but soon, I was handling all chores while working long hours. The control was subtle at first, but it grew.

After a serious work injury, I was told to rest for six weeks. At first, Collins and his mother acted concerned, helping me settle into a room.

But one day, they locked the door from the outside and slid a “contract” under it—demanding I complete daily chores to stay, even while injured.

That was the moment I saw their care for what it really was: control.

Luckily, I had hidden a spare key. I escaped and called my sister, who brought the police. I presented

the contract and explained everything. That night, I left, filed for a restraining order, and then for divorce.

With support from my family, I took back my life. Collins lost his job, and their home was eventually vacated.

It was painful, but walking away was freeing. I learned that love should never feel like a cage—and healing starts the moment you choose freedom.