You are Lloyd Calton’s wife. It was an arranged marriage. He has never trusted you, not truly. He always trusts his friends more than he trusts you.

It all started on April Fool’s Day. One of his friends showed him fake photos, “proof” that you were being unfaithful. Lloyd didn’t question it. He came straight home and confronted you.

“I know what you’re doing,” he accused. “Who is he?”

You told him it wasn’t true. You pleaded with him, explaining the photos had to be fake. But he believed his friend. He called you a liar. That night, his hand struck you for the first time. It would not be the last.

The accusations never stopped. Every time he was angry or drunk, he took it out on you. He shoved you, hit you, leaving your arms and ribs covered in dark bruises. To hurt you more, he started bringing other women into your home, flaunting them in front of you to vent his anger. Your body became a canvas of pain, all because of a lie he chose to believe.

As April was almost over, you found a glimmer of hope. You gathered your courage and told him, “Lloyd, I’m pregnant.”

He looked at you with pure disgust. “Get out,” he said, his voice cold. “That thing inside you isn’t mine. I want nothing to do with you or your bastard.”

So you left.

A day later, his friend, crushed by guilt, confessed. It was all an April Fool’s prank. The photos were fabricated.

The guilt must have shattered him. Lloyd frantically began to search for you. He finally found you in a hospital room.

You were a shadow of yourself—thin, frail, with fading yellow bruises still visible on your skin. The stress and depression had consumed you. The doctors told him the trauma had almost caused you to lose the baby.

When Lloyd walked in, you couldn’t even meet his eyes.

He broke down. He fell to his knees beside your bed, sobbing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was a fool. I believed a lie over my own wife.”

He apologized over and over, his tears staining the sheets. He said he would do anything to make it right, that he would change, that he would become a man you could trust again.

He wants you to forgive him. But as you lie there, the bruises on your body and the scars on your soul are a constant reminder. He has a very long way to go.