When I met Tom, he was sweet and charming. We married after just three months, and at first, life was good. We were young, broke, and in love. I clipped coupons and stretched every dollar, confident things would get better. They didn’t. Even after Tom’s promotion, he insisted we tighten our belts—especially since I was pregnant. When our daughter Angelina was born, I gave up my job at his request, trusting his plan. But while I scrimped on groceries and thrift store clothes, Tom began indulging in expensive watches, suits, and gadgets. Every time I asked for extra money—for shoes,
ice cream, anything for our daughter—Tom called me extravagant. He ate out while I rationed food. When I started working part-time to ease the burden, he told me his company had cut salaries. We kept struggling, but he kept spending. The final straw came at Christmas. I came home to find a giant flat-screen TV in our cramped living room. When I asked about it, he snapped:
