Real Stories: My husband wants an open marriage, I don’t know if I can handle it

We had just finished dinner, the kids were asleep, and I was folding laundry in the living room when he cleared his throat and said, “Babe, I’ve been thinking… what if we tried an open marriage?”

I froze, my hands gripping one of his shirts like it was choking me. “What did you just say?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He shifted in his seat, too calm for the earthquake he had just dropped in my chest. “I love you. I don’t want to leave you. But I also don’t think monogamy is natural. I feel… stifled.”

I remember laughing. A sharp, bitter laugh that surprised even me. “So, you’re telling me that after ten years, two children, and countless sacrifices, you suddenly realised you want to sleep around with my blessing?”

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he reached for my hand like he was offering me peace. “It won’t change anything between us. We’ll still be together. Stronger even. But I want the freedom to explore. And you can too.”

That night, I lay beside him, staring at the ceiling, unable to breathe. I thought of the early days, how he used to drive across town just to bring me food, how he once knelt, begging me to forgive him for being late to a date. Was it all a lie? Or had I simply not seen this side of him?

For weeks, the thought consumed me. Every time he left the house, I wondered if he was already acting on it, testing my silence. When he kissed me, I felt his lips belonged to someone else. When he touched me, my body stiffened.

One afternoon, I confided in my best friend. “He says it’ll make us stronger. That it’s just sex, not love,” I whispered. She almost dropped her drink. “Stronger? Abeggi! That man just wants to cheat without guilt.”

The worst part is, a small, shameful part of me wondered if maybe he was right. Maybe love in this century is different. Maybe the problem is me, clinging to old-fashioned loyalty. But then I’d remember my vows, the promises we made before God, and my chest would tighten with rage.

Last week, I confronted him again. “If I say no, will you still do it behind my back?” I asked, tears threatening to choke me. He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

That broke me more than if he had confessed to cheating. Because in that moment, I realised he wasn’t asking for permission, he was giving me notice.

Every day, I walk around our home, cooking, smiling for the kids, but inside I’m falling apart. I don’t know if I can survive this. I don’t know if I even want to.

All I know is, my marriage, the one I thought was built on love and trust, is already broken. And there’s nothing I can do about it.