Loving a Man Who Won’t Change

"Loving a Man Who Won’t Change: The Battle Between My Heart and My Sanity"

When I met him in 2021, I thought I had found my forever. He was everything I had prayed for—sweet, supportive, and always knowing just how to make me smile. He made me believe in love, in partnership, in a future where I wasn’t alone. And when I got pregnant, he didn’t run. He stayed, held my hand through every consultation, reassured me when the fear crept in. For a while, I convinced myself that I was one of the lucky ones. That I had found the kind of love that endures.

But love, I’ve come to realize, isn’t always what it seems.

It started with small things—little cracks in the perfect picture I had painted in my mind. A late-night text. A call he wouldn’t take in front of me. A name that kept appearing in his messages. At first, I told myself I was imagining things. But then I started looking. And what I found? It wasn’t my imagination.

When I confronted him, he never denied it. Instead, he flipped it on me. “What were you doing in my phone?” Not an apology, not an explanation—just an accusation. As if I was the one betraying him.

And then there were the clinic visits. Every single time, without fail, there was a girl. Not the same one, but always someone. I would sit there, my hands resting on the life growing inside me, and watch as he smiled at another woman like I didn’t exist. When I brought it up, he would shake his head, dismissing my concerns. “You’re overreacting,” he would say. “It’s nothing.” He promised to change. But promises don’t mean much when actions never follow.

At home, things were no better. When we argued, I tried to fix things, to meet him halfway, to make our home peaceful. But to him, my efforts were a nuisance. “You don’t listen,” he would say. “You do as you please.” No matter how much I tried, I was always the problem.

And then came the women. So many women. Exes, strangers, girls who should have meant nothing but clearly meant something to him. I lost count of how many times I found messages, saw flirty interactions, heard whispers of betrayal. And every time I asked, every time I begged for honesty, his answer was the same. “I’m just checking on them.” “I don’t sleep with them, so what’s the problem?”

The problem? The problem was that I was breaking.

I was losing myself in his lies, in his games, in the endless cycle of betrayal and forgiveness. He made me question my worth, made me feel like I was asking for too much when all I wanted was loyalty. And yet, even as my heart screamed at me to leave, fear kept me frozen in place.

What about my daughters?

What if they needed him? What if growing up without a father damaged them? I had seen what fatherless homes could do to children, and the thought of putting them through that terrified me. So I stayed. I prayed. I forgave. Again and again and again.

But I can’t do it anymore.

I stand now at a crossroads, torn between the love I once believed in and the reality I can no longer ignore. Between the man I hoped he would be and the man he has shown me he is. Between staying and losing myself completely—or leaving and trying to rebuild from the ruins of what we were.

The choice should be simple. But my heart still whispers, What if?