How I Escaped "Prince Charming"

I was your typical overseas bride, young and full of hope for a new life in Canada. However, my dreams for a fairy tale happily-ever after were shattered like broken glass. The harsh reality is that my husband was not prince charming, but rather the despicable villain in the fairy tale. 

developmenT.png

Soon after, I moved to Canada and into an apartment with my husband. I was in for a wake up call as I learned that my husband had been abused as a child. I would have thought because of what he experienced, he wouldn’t want anyone else to go through the same suffering and pain. That wasn’t the case. He had an immense amount of anger pent up inside which he refused to do anything about. Every little thing would cause him to explode. One time I turned the heater on too high so he forced me to sleep on the bare floor that night. Another time I overcooked his favourite dish so he slammed an iron pan on my hand. I was also once vacuuming while he was watching TV so he started whipping the vacuum cord at me. He would constantly complain to his family about me and how I just married him to come to Canada and that I was a terrible wife and didn’t do anything right.

I endured this abhorrent treatment thinking to myself, “I love him and I can help him.” I thought if I was there for him and supported him, he would see that I wasn’t like his family and start treating me better. I urged him to go see a counsellor, or an Imam or anyone who could help but he refused. “I just need to be patient and things will get better.” But they never did.

When I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I turned to my uncle, who lived in the same city, hoping to escape the abuse. Not only did I find out that he didn’t want to help me, he was angry at me saying that I was an embarrassment to the family. I discovered that my husband had poisoned him against me by feeding him lies about me. 

Months later, he bought me a one-way ticket back home. I was discarded like household garbage. Part of me however was happy to return to my parents where I could live in peace. I was in for the second shock my life. My own parents didn’t want me. “Go back to your husband and make your marriage work,” they insisted. That was their verdict.

In the depths of my despair, I turned to Allah and begged for a way out of my troubles. It was not long before I heard of Nisa Homes. That was my ticket to safety, Allah answered my du’ua. 

I was greeted by Nisa Homes’ loving staff who helped me pick up the pieces of my life and put it back together like a beautiful mosaic. They helped me become independent in a country, that was once so foreign to me. Instead of waiting for my prince charming, alhamdulilah, I become my own story’s heroin and life has never been better.