It may be that the man must have theorized that the best way to plant his seed in his wife was to constantly abuse and rape her, using her against her will and beating her at any slight resistance, because it became a tradition in their home and with every night came a new pain. One she found hard to share. It was at this point that she started believing the prophets who had spoken about her name when she was young. The only time she knew joy was when the sun ruled the day and it became a struggle to remove the pain of her blanket night that had covered her joy.
Success is measured in several ways, in Africa for example; success for a woman in many quarters is measured as marital fortunes. Such fortunes came in different forms; how early you got married, how good looking your family appear, how many children you have, how long it took for you to have children, etc. She joined this school of thought as soon as her marriage kicked off, so she gave up her career to focus on the business of family caring at the insistence of her husband, well she loved him that much, and his promise to always provide for her needs was persuading enough, so it wasn't too much to give up, but the moment her blanket night refused to unveil her sun, it became a decision she regretted. Her life was centered on her husband, her livelihood was dependent on the amount of oxygen the man's nostrils were willing to share and it was too little for her survival. She had to find a way out or she would eventually pay with her life. This is the reason for this lengthy piece of literature, you see, she never quite figured how to turn the man around and make him the darling he was at the beginning of their marriage. What she did however is worth an exposé…