Dear Mum,

I met with the boy. He was sweet. I think I would like to get to know him better. We met at the Café near his place. I know, I know, I should’ve picked a place closer to mine for safety purposes, but I was already in the area, and he was walking back from the gym. We had been texting all day, since 8 am, and I felt it was right to meet him.

I drove there on my scooter. I hope you don’t mind. I drive safe. I promise.

We met right in front of the Café, and well, he is a very good-looking man. Much better looking than the photos sent to me. And very strong looking too. His physique made me blush. I confess, Mum, I had some unladylike thoughts looking at him. But I digress.

At the Café, we ended up ordering the same thing: a single-shot Americano. This made both of us laugh. I confess, I’d been nervous. You, more than most, know how I don’t ‘do’ dates. They tire me. People tire me. But he didn’t. The conversation didn’t even start with the usual hellos and how-do-you-dos as many do. The laugh at the beginning, I think, set us at ease and we simply started talking about the coffee, our love for single shot Americanos, how the blandness is actually a blessing, and how we loved to drink coffee at evenings. He has trouble sleeping as I do, Mum.

He has trouble with a lot of things like me. He hates crowds, live music, too much sun, and sweets. It felt nice, Mum. It felt calm. I didn’t feel the need to overextend myself like I have a habit of doing. The only thing you couldn’t wring out of me, as you often say.

It was an hour into the conversation that I asked him. No, I told him, what I wanted. I wanted to be in a relationship that would lead to marriage. And guess what, Mum? That’s exactly what he wants too! Oh, he looked at me so happily when I said that. I can’t remember the last time someone was so direct and intentional with me. Someone who was ready to stand on the same two feet with me. It was refreshing.

I felt myself grow bolder the longer we spent together, and Mum, oh Mum, guess what? I held his hand. Yes! I reached out from the table and held his hand.

I held his hand, Mum! Oh, how I wish you could’ve seen it. How I wish I could experience it again, Mum, because…because he held it back! I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed mine, and we just sat in silence.

We were together for two whole hours until he sat up, said his clothes were starting to stink and then went to get the bill. I was still in a daze when he came back, pulled me up, and said, “You are my girlfriend now.”

Dear Mum,

The past couple of months have been really good. He and I have turned into something of a well-worn machine. We don’t yet live together, but he’s at mine all the time. Sometimes he even stays the night. I’m sorry, Mum, but we haven’t been chaste. But I think you’d approve because we are bound to get married. It’s true! We have, in fact, been looking at rings.

Ever since I met him, I’ve been seeing rings in the advertisements on my social media. And one day, I told him about it, and he said, to me, he said, looking deeply in my eyes, do you want a ring? I confess, Mum, I said yes. I said yes, I want a ring, and I want to get married to you. When? He asked. As soon as possible, I replied.

The day after that, he took me to meet his parents, and I did. They were a bit austere. I think the father liked me immediately, but the Mum had questions. Questions about you. I wasn’t able to answer properly, but he replied for me, Mum. He replied for me.

I’ve never met anyone as direct and intentional as him. It’s amazing, Mum, but sometimes it gets a bit hard to swallow or even follow. He tells me, sharply, how I look in the clothes I wear. In fact, Mum, I’ve been wearing clothes a bit different from the ones I used to. I’ve been wearing clothes that he picks out for me. Yes, we go shopping together. First, I follow him as he picks out clothes for himself, then he leads me to the women’s section where he picks out clothes for me.

They’re a bit form-fitting, Mum, but I like them. I do. They’re not as modest as the clothes I’m used to, but weren’t you the one who told me that it is okay to change for the one you love? And I am changing, Mum. I am becoming bolder.

In many ways.

In ways I can’t even confess to you, I’ve become bolder, and he likes it. He likes how bold I am when I am with him. And only him. However, with the rest of the world, I can be as meek as I usually am. There is both comfort and challenge in the love we share.

Yes, Mum, I am in love. And guess what? I’ve told him too. And guess what? He’s said it back as well.

What more can I say, Mum? I am happy. Very happy. I think this is good. I think he is the man I am meant to marry and that we will share a good life together. The life you always dreamed for me, Mum. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I cry that I’ve finally fulfilled the dream that you had for me. Oh, Mum, I miss you. I wish you could see, breathe and feel my happiness.

Dear Mum,

I…I am sorry. I failed. I think I failed. He…he is a monster. Please, Mum, believe me, he is. He is out of control. He is too much in control. I have become his puppet. His puppet on a string.

I was so happy. So happy being told what to do. He told me what to wear. Yes, that’s how it started. Then he told me what to eat. How to eat. Why I should leave my job. What I should do instead: stay at home.

We moved in together. He moved in at mine. At first, I was happy. I never liked my job all that much. And I loved having him around. But soon, I couldn’t leave. He told me that happiness for me should be just the house. Just him. Just the two of us together. And that’s what it became. I was just with him. Always. Everywhere. And when he wasn’t around, I was alone. In the house. Waiting for him.

He became insatiable. He would be gone all day. Working. And then, when he came back. He’d want me. No. Demand from me. And the things he wanted soon escaped the realm of making love into something I can’t even put into words, Mum.

I am sorry for being crass. If you could read this letter, I know you would get angry. I know you used to say that what’s between a man and his wife is between them and God, but Mum, he has stopped talking about marriage. When I brought it up, finally, you know what he did? He took the ring off a beer cap and pushed it onto my ring finger.

He drinks. Yes, Mum. He drinks. I didn’t say this before because it was understandable. I know you would’ve understood, too, had you met him. He was like Father. A drink after work and some on the weekends. But then he became too much like father. But, Mum, just like you, I stayed quiet. I tried to be dutiful, but after he put that beer ring on me and laughed, well, I had to say something. I had to tell him what’s what and who’s who.

Then I thought of you and how you persevered, and I held my tongue. Maybe he was just having a bad day. Isn’t that what you said when Father was like that? Maybe he was having a bad day.

But then something happened, Mum. Something so much worse.

His friends have been around the house a lot. Sometimes they even stay over. Sometimes he wants to be intimate when they’re there, outside, in the living room. But one day, one of them walked in, just stood there, and watched. He didn’t stop. Didn’t let me stop. And then, when he was done. His friend asked if he could, too. And he let him, Mum. He let him.

I don’t know what to do or whom to turn to, Mum. I have no one. I am completely under his control, and I am scared. So scared. That one day, he’ll make me do much worse. When I’m with him, my brain stops working. And that’s what I’m even more afraid of. That one day, he’ll make me do so much worse, and that I will be okay with it.