My name is Nicole Chen-Morrison, and after fifteen years of marriage, I thought I knew everything about my husband Eric. I knew he preferred coffee over tea, that he read mystery novels before bed, and that he had an inexplicable fear of moths. Most importantly, I knew that he absolutely, categorically despised social gatherings of any kind.
Eric was the man who would develop sudden migraines whenever we received wedding invitations. He was the husband who claimed to have urgent work deadlines every time my family planned holiday dinners. He was the person who once hid in our bedroom for three hours when our neighbors threw a block party, emerging only after the last guest had gone home.
“Too loud,” he’d always say, tugging at his collar whenever I suggested we attend a barbecue or birthday celebration. “Too much small talk. You know how I am with crowds.”
And I did know. After years of disappointed relatives and apologetic phone calls explaining Eric’s absence from family events, I’d stopped pushing. I told myself that introversion was just part of his personality, that some people weren’t built for the noise and chaos of social gatherings, and that forcing him to attend would only make us both miserable.
I learned to go to events alone, always armed with explanations: “Eric’s working,” or “He’s fighting a headache,” or simply “You know how he is.” My family had grown accustomed to seeing only one half of our couple at celebrations, and I’d grown accustomed to being the wife who always arrived solo.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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