My home is exclusively mine; I’ve worked exceptionally hard for it.

When I met my husband, Thomas, I was already in my thirties. I had been in relationships with men before, but none of those had panned out. From the age of 26 to 30, I took a break from romance and poured my energy into my career. I worked tirelessly to save up for a house, which I eventually bought. I felt an immense sense of pride; throughout my life, I had relied solely on myself, and two years later, I met my husband.

If anyone were to describe our connection as a whirlwind romance, that wouldn’t quite capture it. Is there such a thing as a true love story after thirty? It’s hard to say. I simply wanted to live a peaceful, comfortable life, ideally with a man who wouldn’t add any complications. In short, Thomas seemed to fit that bill—calm, balanced, and cheerful. I welcomed him into my home, and he was perfectly agreeable to that.

Not every man has the fortune of meeting a woman who already owns her home. I was able to purchase my dream place to live without taking out a mortgage or worrying about monthly payments.

For seven years, we lived this way, without children. I was busy with work, and so was my husband. After long days, we returned home exhausted and went straight to sleep. I won’t deny that I thought about having a child more than once, but I kept telling myself that perhaps it was better to wait, especially since many women today have children into their forties.

Last week, as we sat at the dining table enjoying breakfast, my husband asked me directly when I planned to officially register him at my address. Thomas wanted to deregister from his mother’s home so he could reduce his utility bills. I wasn’t fond of this idea; I didn’t want anyone else registered at my address, and I made that clear to him. He could easily save his own money to buy a flat where he could have his own registration, but most men living with their mothers don’t consider that. We equally shared the costs of essentials and spent the rest of our salaries as we pleased.

After our conversation, he left for work, but that evening, he didn’t come home. The following morning, I received a text from him stating that he had filed for divorce. I still can’t believe my husband would do such a thing. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him when I hesitated to register him; it was simply the realities of life. There are no guarantees that we’ll be together forever. I have no intention of sharing my property with anyone; I worked incredibly hard for this home, and it belongs solely to me. If Thomas was with me just for the expectation of a share in my property, then I wish him well on his own path.

In the end, the lesson I learned is that true partnership is built on mutual respect and trust, not on expectations tied to ownership.