Between Love and Medicine

Samuel's Extreme Misogyny

The moment I answered the call, I was met with Samuel's irrational rant.

"Hannah, what are you up to? I could forgive you for abandoning me during Irene's birthday party, but why aren't you home yet?

"Since when did you become someone who stays out all night? Can't you be a good role model for our daughter?"

I couldn't help but find it amusing.

Samuel never came home before midnight in the past, yet now he was interrogating me for being out late and accusing me of being a bad role model for our child.

I cut the call mid-rant, unwilling to listen to his endless tirade.

When I finally arrived home, Samuel hadn't gone to bed. In fact, he looked like he was about to head out.

His face twisted with impatience the moment he saw me.

"Why are you still running away from home at your age?" he grumbled.

I looked up at the man standing before me.

After more than a decade as a businessman, Samuel had grown seasoned, with a mature, composed look in his eyes.

Thanks to my control over his diet, he hadn't gained any weight with age.

His waist was still as slim as it had always been, and with his broad shoulders, he radiated a unique, mature charm.

But as I stared at the man I had shared a bed with for five years, all I felt was a cold sense of detachment.

Perhaps he sensed the scrutiny in my gaze because his tone softened.

"Hannah, I'm embarrassed by your career choice. Why don't you quit your job?

"I'll take care of everything. It's only natural for men to be the breadwinners while women take care of the home, right?"

For some reason, hearing that made my chest ache. Samuel had always been able to dismiss my hard work and achievements with a single sentence.

"Samuel, I can't give up my job. And for what it's worth, I believe it has great value, even if the pay isn't high."

"Value? What value could there possibly be? You just want to prove you're successful, don't you? And how do you measure success? By being like me. By being rich.

"If you really want to prove yourself, fine. Quit your job at the hospital and be my private doctor. I'll pay you 100,000 a month, plus two months' bonus and even more at the end of the year. Is that enough?"

The more Samuel spoke, the more animated he became, almost caught up in a frenzy.

"Samuel, you're being unreasonable!"

As I watched his irritability grow, his extreme misogyny on full display, I suddenly understood the warning my mother had given me all those years ago.

"Hannah, a boy like Samuel might be smart and talented, but he has an inferiority complex and an inflated sense of pride. He's a suspicious man, always thinking others are looking down on him.

"Even if he becomes successful, he will always carry that insecurity. And one day, his jagged edges might hurt you."

Back then, I was blinded by my love for Samuel. I didn't take my mother's words to heart.

In the years that followed, he found his big break, establishing his own company in just a few years.

As he became more successful, my mother's worries faded, and she even started to think better of him.

But now, her old warning felt like a prophecy coming true.

After my shower, I grabbed my pillow and blanket and moved to Irene's room.

That night, the mere thought of the disdain he showed for me in that room sent waves of agony through me.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard the door creak open. Samuel tiptoed inside, and before I knew it, I could feel his minty breath brushing against my neck.

"Honey," he whispered softly, "Irene is three now. It's about time we had another, don't you think?"