I Got Married to Escape My Family — Now I Miss Them

I didn’t marry him because I was in love.
I married him because I wanted out.

Out of the suffocating expectations.
Out of the endless “log kya kahenge.”
Out of the shame I felt for simply being me.

For years, I lived in a house where silence was louder than screams, where decisions were made for me, where love was conditional and tightly wrapped in duty, reputation, and guilt.
I was the “achi beti,” the obedient daughter. Quiet. Respectful. Uncomplaining.

Until one day… I couldn’t anymore.


The Proposal That Felt Like Freedom

He wasn’t a stranger.
We had met through mutual friends. He was kind, decent, had a stable job, and—most importantly—he lived far away from my hometown. Thousands of miles away, in another country.

So when he proposed, I said yes.
Not because my heart fluttered.
But because I saw the green light: escape.

Escape from my father’s cold rules.
From my mother’s quiet disappointment.
From a household where my dreams had no space to grow.

I told myself it was the right decision. I’d find happiness later. Love could grow, right?

A House of My Own—But Empty Walls Echo Loud

The wedding was quick. A blur of fake smiles, heavy lehengas, and relatives who commented more on my weight than my tears.

When we landed in Germany, it hit me—I had done it. I had finally left.
But instead of relief, all I felt was… nothing.

Our tiny apartment was neat, modern, and quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your ears ring. No siblings arguing. No TV shouting news in the background. No aroma of chai. No Ammi humming in the kitchen.

Just me. And him.

He was sweet.
He tried.
But I was distant. Distracted. Hollow.
Because I started to miss the very things I once ran from.


I Thought They Didn’t Love Me—Now I See It Differently

It’s funny how distance softens edges.
The same father who barked rules at me? He now sends voice notes telling me to keep warm.
The mother who once judged my every outfit? She now asks what I cooked today and says “take care of yourself, beta” like it’s a blessing she regrets withholding before.

I used to think they didn’t love me.
Now I wonder if they simply didn’t know how to love me the way I needed.

And I... I never told them how much their absence would ache.
Or how I’d cry silently after video calls.
Or how I miss the way Ammi's bangles sounded when she kneaded dough.
How I miss Abu’s stern “khair” that meant more than “I love you.”

My Husband Doesn’t Know This Side of Me

He doesn’t know that I sometimes go into the bathroom just to cry quietly.
He doesn’t know that my silence at dinner isn’t anger, it’s homesickness.

And honestly? I don’t blame him.

He thought he was marrying someone in love. I gave him that impression.
But I was only in love with the idea of escape.

Now I’m learning that freedom without belonging feels like exile.

Regret Doesn’t Mean I Don’t Love My Life

Do I regret marrying him?
Not entirely.

He’s a good man.
He’s patient with my moods, respectful of my space, and when I talk about home, he listens—even if he doesn’t understand.

But if I could go back, I wouldn’t rush into marriage just to run away.
I’d fight a little longer.
Speak a little louder.
Maybe give my parents a chance to see the real me, instead of just fleeing.

The Phone Call That Broke Me

Last week, Ammi called.
Her voice cracked when she said, “Ghar ajeeb lagta hai tumhare bagair.”
(The house feels strange without you.)

I said, “Mujhe bhi…”
(Me too…)

Then we both stayed silent—two women from different worlds, finally finding common ground in longing.

So, What Now?

Now, I’m learning to rebuild relationships I thought I had burned.
Now, I call home without waiting for a reason.
Now, I tell my husband I need time to figure myself out—not as his wife, not as their daughter, but as me.

Because the truth is, I got married to escape.
But what I really wanted… was to be free and loved.

And maybe, just maybe… I can still have both.
--Have you ever made a life-changing decision just to break free—only to realize you left a part of yourself behind?
I'd love to hear your story too. 💬👇