My name is Rania, a 37-year-old wife and mother of three children who mean everything to me. My husband, Arman, is 41, working as a private employee with a small business on the side. For years, I believed our marriage was stable—like any other household with its ups and downs.
But over the past three months, everything changed. I discovered that Arman had rekindled a relationship with Maya, a widow who also happened to be his former lover before he met me. Their conversations were not just casual greetings; they had already discussed marriage.
What pierced me the most was Maya’s response—she agreed to become his second wife.
Arman told her that his entire monthly salary would remain for me and the children, while Maya would only receive support from his side business. Maya accepted it without hesitation, saying she was financially secure and independent.
But none of these explanations made the pain any lighter for me.
The Question That Lingers
One night, I finally asked Arman:
“Why do you need to marry again? I am still here. We have children. I am still capable of being a wife. What am I lacking?”
He lowered his head, remaining silent for a long while, before whispering:
“This isn’t about your shortcomings, Ran… it’s about feelings. There were times I felt disappointed in you, especially about finances. That’s when my love for you began to fade. But I still care about you and the children. I still fulfill my duties as a husband. It’s just… my love for Maya has grown stronger.”
His words felt like a knife piercing through my chest. I wanted to scream, but only silent tears escaped.
A Dilemma
I don’t want a divorce. What would it do to the children’s mental state? They are deeply attached to their father. Arman also insists he doesn’t want to part with us. Yet, I cannot bear the thought of sharing my husband.
It feels like I am trapped. Arman seems to expect me to accept polygamy—or else, he might choose another path.
To make things worse, Maya demanded that one day Arman move in with her in Depok. But our life is in Bekasi—our children’s schools, my work, Arman’s business.
I can see Arman’s hesitation. He fears losing his children, yet he refuses to let go of Maya.
The Lingering Wound
These days, my life is filled with unease. Even though Arman still comes home, I know he keeps communicating with Maya behind my back—calls, messages, and plans he never shares with me.
I feel like our marriage is now held together only because of the children. Every day, I swallow my pain, waiting for a decision that could shatter everything we’ve built.
One thing is certain: I can never be the same woman I once was. The wound runs too deep. And every time I look at my children’s faces, I can only pray they stay strong—no matter what happens next.
Photo by Rae Angela on Unsplash
