They Mocked Me In Eight Languages, So I Left

My son inherited my husbands language talent.

At just six years old, he was already fluent in eight languages.

He and his father would often chat in foreign languages right in front of me.

Today, while we were walking through the mall, my son pointed at my stomach and said in German,

Mama, der Bauch ist gro?.

(Moms belly is so big.)

My husband smiled and replied in French,

"On peut mettre un cochon."

(We could fit a pig inside.)

My son doubled over laughing, mocking me in Italian,

"La mamma un maiale."

(Mom is a pig anyway.)

I turned to ask them what they were saying, but on second thought, I decided not to.

Even if I asked, they wouldn't tell me.

Instead, they would just look at me with sneers, telling me to guess or look it up online.

I simply quickened my pace, stopped in front of a luggage store, and said to the clerk,

"Give me the largest suitcase you have, please."

After the father and son came out of the mall restroom, they went to get ice cream.

Seeing me still picking out a suitcase at the storefront, they finally walked over, looking annoyed.

Julian said, "What are you buying a suitcase for? Its not like youre going on a trip."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him curling his lip, mockingly imitating the way I squatted down to show our son.

Leo laughed so hard his mouth wouldn't close. The ice cream in his hand dripped onto the white denim jeans I had just washed for him.

He flinched instinctively, but then, seeing his father backing him up, all fear vanished.

He didn't even bother to move his legs, letting the ice cream melt and run down his pants.

I turned my head away, not wanting to watch the scene that was making my blood pressure spike.

Instead, I kept discussing the details of the suitcase with the store owner.

Seeing me ignore him, Julian asked again.

"Clara, are you mute?"

"You don't speak foreign languages, but did you forget English too?"

I didn't see what was so funny about that.

But hearing it, Leo burst into laughter again.

A wave of disgust washed over me. For the first time, I wondered if there was something wrong with my own son's head.

To avoid making a scene in the mall, I explained that our old suitcase at home was worn out and I was just replacing it.

Julian gave a dismissive grunt, then pulled Leo toward the arcade on the second floor.

He was always like this. He never asked questions because he wanted answers.

He just wanted me to submit to his rules.

In his eyes, I was not allowed to ignore him, and I was not allowed to disobey.

Naturally, it wasn't just me.

Everyone in this family had to obey his commands.

He was a male chauvinist. Before we got married, I actually thought that was a good thing.

I was indecisive and weak-willed.

So my mother had suggested I find a strong, capable man to spend the rest of my life with.

Then I found him. He was indeed very efficient.

From daily meals to buying our house, to which school our child should attend and what extracurricular classes to sign up for.

Whenever he saw me struggling to decide, he would make the best choice for me. Our life together had seemed pleasant enough.

But ever since we discovered our son's language talent,

Cracks began to slowly appear in our lives.

Julian wanted Leo to learn as much as possible.

He signed him up for French, German, Mandarin, Italian, Japanese, and Korean.

Recently, seeing how fast Leo was learning, he added Spanish and Swedish.

I felt terrible for our son and tried to convince Julian not to push him so hard, warning him it might backfire.

But he wouldnt listen. He lectured me on how this was for Leo's future, hinting that I simply didn't know how to raise a child.

Because Leo spent so much time with him, he gradually started harboring resentment toward me too.

Everything I did was wrong. Anything I did made him angry.

Even today, fearing he was cooped up studying too much, I brought him to the mall, only for him to complain the entire way that I was ruining his study time.

It was obvious. I was despised by both my husband and my son.

Over the years, it wasn't that I hadn't tried to fit in.

But I really couldn't learn those foreign languages. Even though I memorized vocabulary until midnight, carrying word cards while working or doing chores, I just couldn't retain them.

But Leo only had to look at a word once to remember it. He would then laugh at me, calling me the stupidest person in the house.

Over time, my confidence was crushed, and I decided to stop trying.

I resigned myself to taking care of the housework and being their support.

But as time went on, I became nothing more than a maid in their eyes.

Aside from sentences like, "Mom, I want steak tonight," or "Clara, where are my socks?"

They had no other communication with me.

Their attention was never on me.

Even when I cut my hand while chopping vegetables, or got my foot caught in the elevator door,

They didn't even bother to spare me a glance.

I was utterly sick of it.

In this home, I felt zero love.

And on top of that,

I had to constantly endure their malicious mockery.

During dinner, if Julian wanted to test Leos language skills, he would suddenly ask him,

"Leo, how do you say 'Mom's cooking tastes awful' in Korean?"

Leo would think for a moment, then, getting a bright idea, reply:

"??? ?? ??? ?? ?? ??"

And just like that, Leo would be rewarded with screen time on his computer.

Or before bed, Julian would suddenly quiz Leo, asking him to translate a Japanese sentence into English.

""

Leo didn't understand the underlying meaning of the sentence, but he translated it word-for-word anyway.

His childish voice echoed in the bedroom.

"The translation is: My wife is just like an old-fashioned Japanese housewife."

Then, Leo asked curiously, "Daddy, are Japanese housewives as ugly and submissive as Mommy?"

Julian's eyes flashed with a knowing gleam. He raised an eyebrow and said maliciously,

"You'll understand when you grow up."

Hearing their conversation, I naturally felt sick to my stomach.

I pulled Julian into our room, complaining about why he had to do that, why he was teaching our son such things, and why he was always targeting me.

But Julian didn't feel he had done anything wrong at all. He replied unreasonably,

"What? Are you saying I don't know how to raise my own kid?"

"Fine, you raise him then."

He knew very well that Leo never listened to me.

Saying this was nothing short of a provocation and a show of power.

I backed down, uttering a few useless words about not doing it again,

And then covered my face with the blanket and went to sleep.

Only today, I suddenly didn't want to hide under the blanket anymore.

I had always deliberately pretended not to care.

Hiding myself away to lick my wounds.

But in reality, it hurt deeply.

I couldn't discipline my son,

And I couldn't get respect from my husband.

I was a failure. An absolute failure.

That was why I bought that massive suitcase.

To pack my few clothes,

And my trampled dignity.

When I said I wanted a divorce, everyone around the table laughed.

Julian did too. He sat at the head of the table holding his wine glass, looking at me with amusement,

As if waiting to watch a comedy show.

It wasnt until they finished their previous conversation that they remembered what I had said about the divorce.

Julian's best friend, Marcus, spoke first. "Clara, you should count your blessings."

"Divorce? If it weren't for Julian, who would even know your name?"

Then, the rest of the group started throwing insults at me, one after another, each worse than the last.

"Yeah, Clara. Think about it. You were just a daycare assistant when Julian noticed you. He gave you status, used his connections to get you promoted, and when you weren't happy, he bought a whole preschool just so you could be the director. What, now that you're well-fed, you're going to bite the hand that feeds you and look down on Julian?"

"And everything on youthe gold jewelry, the BMW you drive, the latest iPhonewhich of these didn't come from Julian's pocket? Don't be so ungrateful, alright?"

They were right. Julian had indeed given me everything.

But it was a transaction from the very beginning.

When he wanted to please me and get benefits from me, he spared no expense.

I didn't force him to do any of it. Besides, I had suffered endless humiliation in this marriage.

Yet, I had never said a single bad word about him.

In front of others, to maintain his alpha-male image, I always acted like a submissive, quiet wife.

But him? He either degraded me at every turn or let his friends look down on me.

The higher his image soared, the cheaper my status became.

I didn't understand why he had to do this.

In the beginning, his friends respected me, even putting me on a pedestal because of his status.

Why couldn't we be equals? Why did I always have to be a step below him?

The more I thought about it, the more wronged I felt. I stood up, wanting to leave.

Anyway, I had said what I needed to say.

Once I packed up, I would see him at the courthouse.

But though I wanted to leave, someone wouldn't let me.

With a single look from Julian, one of his lackeys blocked me at the door.

Julian swirled the wine in his glass, ran his eyes up and down my body, and said,

"Sure, we can get a divorce."

"I haven't cheated, and I haven't abused you."

"Return everything I bought for you, and well sign the papers."

He was convinced I wouldn't dare to go through with it.

So he used every disgusting method to pressure me.

I said, "Even in a standard divorce, your assets are partly mine."

"So, the things you bought that I wear are mine too."

After I said that, Julian let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Ha. Married for a few years, and you didnt learn anything else, but you sure learned how to bite."

I didn't want to waste my breath on him. I took a step to leave.

But his lackey hadn't received the command to let me go, so he still blocked the exit.

Furious, I raised my hand and slapped the man hard across the face.

The force of the slap was so strong that my own body trembled slightly.

Startled, Julian stood up and finally gestured for the man to back off.

When I got home, Leo thought Julian was back and quickly shut his computer in fear.

But when he realized it was just me, he muttered a curse under his breath and went right back to playing his game.

I didn't nag him like I usually did. Instead, I went straight to the master bedroom.

I started packing my everyday clothes into the suitcase.

I also packed up all the gold jewelry Julian had given me.

I packed until midnight. After making sure Leo was asleep, Julian finally came home.

He was being supported by a couple of his friends.

When I opened the door, Julian's eyes were incredibly bloodshot.

The man who had insulted me at the dinner table earlier said, "Clara, Julian was crying pretty hard just now."

"Don't make jokes about divorce ever again."

I ignored him and didn't offer to take over helping Julian.

I just let them dump him onto the sofa.

Once the man left, Julian seemed to sober up a bit.

He wrapped his arms around my back and murmured,

"Clara, come here and help me undress."

"Tonight, Im going to make you cry, you disobedient little thing."

"Let's see if you ever dare mention divorce again."

As he spoke, he started unbuttoning my top from behind.

I slammed my elbow into him, pushing him away, and stood up straight.

Seeing how drunk he was, I didn't say much. He wouldn't listen anyway.

I went to sleep in the guest bedroom.

The next morning, I made a simple breakfast.

Once the Italian tutor arrived for Leo,

I grabbed my suitcase and drove back to my mother's house.