by Anonymous

Once again, we bring you another story that was submitted to the Love Lust or Bust travel and dating short story contest.

While we love reading about fairytale romances from women who met their true loves while traveling, this is a very different story.

This story does not tell the tale of a foreign fairytale- her story is about the devastation and psychological abuse she suffered from her controlling husband.

She wrote it as a cautionary tale, hoping to help other women to avoid the same fate.

Each week we bring you a different story; some full of passion and romance, others, heartbreak. We hope you love each and every one as we do.

Get ready to embark on an extraordinary voyage infused with romance, adventure, and captivating narratives. We are delighted to present to you a compilation of stories that will transport you to enchanting destinations, immersing you in the realm of love and travel.

Within this series, you will discover the crème de la crème, the finest works from the Love Lust or Bust Dating and Travel short story contest.

These remarkable tales have been meticulously chosen from a pool of gifted writers who poured their passion and creativity into crafting narratives that whisk you away to far-flung corners of the globe.

As you delve into this collection, you will encounter vibrant characters, diverse cultures, and awe-inspiring landscapes that form the backdrop for unforgettable love stories. Each narrative possesses its own distinctive allure, providing profound insights into the intricacies of dating in unfamiliar territories, the exhilaration of spontaneous encounters, and the transformative magic of travel.

Join us in celebrating the literary brilliance of the top 20 winners of the contest. Allow their words to sweep you off your feet and transport you to a realm where love and adventure intertwine in the most exquisite and profound ways. Prepare yourself for a literary expedition that will linger in your heart and mind, and hopefully will inspire you to be open and courageous to go on your own journey.

Today, we are thrilled to bring you this intriguing story below. Enjoy, and please leave your thoughts in the comment section below.


By Anonymous

My mother is Norwegian and my biological father is Tunisian.

I was a middle child but the one that continued my education higher than my sister’s.

In Norway, I attended university to become a medical nurse and later traveled to Germany to study to become a midwife in Switzerland. It was 38 minutes by train from Freiburg to Switzerland.

And later, I continued my studies in the science of medicine, anesthesia, and intensive care medicine.

My life changed, however, when I unexpectedly met a man in France while I was a student.

This man, I’ll call him “M” was from western Sahara in Morocco.

In the beginning, it was a dream. I believed he was the perfect man.

We married the Islamic way because the government refused my Norwegian papers. At first, things seemed wonderful, but soon he changed. After I gave birth to my first daughter, he became more controlling. He would not allow me to go outside alone.

There were little red flags that I ignored, but when he refused to let me go out, I began to realize that things weren’t right.

It was then I really got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling that something bad was going to happen to me.

I did not know French so I could not communicate with anybody, and he enjoyed that. I became even more isolated and alone.

My second child was born 26 weeks premature because I contracted a virus in my lungs that would not go away.

The doctor blamed me for the premature birth but I told the doctor that the midwife said the blood test was fine before I got into labour.

As a result, the CPS in France got in touch with me and my life became a living hell.

My husband just hung with the head when they talked to him as if it was my fault.

When my son was 3 months old, he was still in the hospital. He left the hospital’s care and went directly into an institution for another month.

I was absolutely devastated, but finally, I got him home.

At 2 years old my son started vomiting and was not growing, so I contacted the doctor.

It was frustrating when the medical professionals refused to take me seriously. Later, blood test revealed that I had cystic fibrosis.

Around this time I was pregnant again. This was not something I had planned.

What was even more stressful was when I got blamed for my son’s illness. They claimed that I caused him stress because of my pregnancy and the birth of a new son.

My first son “A” was happy to see the new baby, so the doctor was not correct.

I believe the doctor didn’t like me because I was not French.

She reported me again saying I didn’t love my son. Her accusation was unfair, untrue, and it broke breaking my heart.

My husband didn’t react to it and ignored the situation, which also hurt me because he should have defended me,

CPS came to our home to investigate, a difficult, frustrating ordeal. They made accusations and wrote reports until their hands were cramped.

My husband charmed them and give them the impression that he was a good father.

My husband is a good actor, but a psychopath is often like this, good at getting people to believe they are normal.

I was stunned when CPS took my sick son from me, apparently because I have problems with my lungs, and also diabetes.

I think they believed that I was not a good role model because I don’t speak French.

My husband constantly berated me, telling me that I was at fault for everything. He was mentally and verbally abusive and I was exhausted.

But he never let me do anything. He denied me access to an internet connection to learn French or to do anything to change my situation.

Then came D-day; on 2018 9 April we were summoned to a court meeting.

I was nervous, and filled with anxiety. But instead of being supportive and standing by my side, my husband refused to attend the court meeting. Instead, he went to work instead of going with me.

My little son was asleep in the stroller and my daughter was with my neighbor.

My heart was pounding. I was terrified of losing my child.

During the family court meeting, I was even more frustrated because I had a very bad translator who was supposed to be helping me but made things even worse, and I was confused.

The CPS accused me of neglecting my sick child. They did not report me for my other children, only him.

They offered to give me help at home, but the devastating news destroyed me; the would not allow me to take my son “A” home.

I did not know what to do. My husband insisted I arrange for Norwegian passports for myself and my children.

I told him I would not take my sick boy and travel, but he refused to listen to me.

He said he had a plan. He decided he was going to ask the foster parents of our son for him to join us for a vacation for a week.

Nobody knew what he was planning.

There was also the language problem.

I was so broken down,I could barely think straight, so I listened to my husband.

My son came for a weekly visit for 5 hours each Monday.

That night, our bags were packed and we ran to Marseille airport.

 It was a stressful, terrifying journey, and after arriving in Casablanca we had to sleep in the airport until the next morning.

When we got to western Sahara and were with his family, I had another really bad feeling.

My husband called me to tell me he was in court in handcuffs.

That he lied to me about the situation.

He promised the court to bring back our son, and Interpol would arrest me.

That was a lie, too.

Ten times I met with the police and a judge in Morocco.

They did not give me back to France.

The family was not happy to have me and my kids living with them. I was a burden to them.

I got to live in the first-floor apartment of their home, but it was hell.

One of the daughters especially did not want me there.

She lied and accused me of destroying their mother’s house with dirt and the smell of bad cooking.

The mother and the sister said it is better that I go to prison.

They accused me of not being a good mother like them.

By this time, I felt broken. I was in a deep depression and had no fight left in me. I told my husband to let them talk and do what they want to me.

I had nothing left inside of me to fight or defend myself. But I knew they would do bad things to me and my children.

After a year of hell, in 2019 my husband sent his cousin to take my son back to France.

I was hoping Interpol would then take away the blockage, but that did not happen.

They told my husband to bring all of us to France, but he refused.

Now, I am forced to remain in Morocco.

Each day I must endure psychological abuse from my in-laws and my husband. In many ways emotional and verbal abuse is psychological torture, and even more painful than physical abuse.

My children have also been affected, and they have changed. They use bad language and they have become violent and have no respect. They were taught to behave this way by their father and his relatives.

Every day my in-laws instigate, hoping my husband will put me and my kufar kids on the street.

They don’t want a stranger,, a woman from Europe, in their family.

I do not have permission to go where I want or to work. After my last son was born in 2021, he don’t want me to go out with my kids at all and he became increasingly more controlling.

I don’t go anywhere.

I live in the worst prison a person can have; a mental prison.

I dream every night that perhaps I might meet a dream man, someone who will save me and my kids and he will protect us.

But of course, it’s only a dream.

I have no one. I’m completely isolated and alone.

My two sisters died; one in a tragic car accident in the snow.

The other died suddenly while having a C-section, from blood clots in her lungs.

My mother turned her back on me.

So I have no one than my kids to trust.

Life can bring luck or it can bring something very bad.

Love does make someone blind and sometimes they will pay with a life sentence of mental abuse.

I have searched the internet but I could not find a way to get help or fundraising for me to use to save money to run and hide.

To other women, please never trust your life to a man that sounds too good to be true. It can cost you your life.

Never live with your in-laws in an Arabic country because they will cost you your mental health.

Thanks for reading my sad tale. I shared it because I hope it might help others to avoid a similarly bad situation before it is too late.

This is the true story of what one woman can expect from an Arabic man.

They have more respect for their families than their wives and kids from other countries.

Of course, there are some men who are more modern Arabs, but always have a eye open.

You never know if this could happen to you, too.

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