I Talked Too Much, Until I Couldn't

When my husband, Marvin Brit, walked in, I was crying on the couch.

He didn't ask what was wrong. He just quietly changed his shoes, walked over, and slid a lozenge into my mouth without a word.

The sweetness spread across my tongue, but all I felt was pain.

I used to struggle with severe logorrhea—pathological wordiness. Back then, Marvin felt so bad for me that he'd bring home a box of mint lozenges every single day.

"Hannah Moore."

It was the first time Marvin had ever addressed me by my full name in that heavy tone. He used to just call me Hannah.

The moment I tried to speak, the wound in my throat tore open. A sharp pain hit me.

It was only then did I remember that I might never be able to speak again.

I unlocked my phone and typed, "Marvin, some maniac on the street forced boiling water down my throat, leaving me with trauma and damaged vocal cords. I may never be able to speak again. Can you take on this case for me?"

Marvin was a top lawyer. This was his specialty.

The living room was dark. Marvin's eyes were hidden in the dim moonlight, dark and heavy.

My heart sank. He hadn't even looked at the screen.

To him, whatever I had to say was probably just more noise.

"Can you stop crying?" Marvin warned, his voice flat. "Just because I missed your voice note this one time, you're acting like I've abused you."

It wasn't just this one time.

By our second year of marriage, he had stopped paying attention to my messages entirely.

Marvin continued, "Your mouth runs like a machine gun all day long. Who could possibly keep up with that? I have a job, Hannah. I can't always reply to you the second you text."

He used to say he loved listening to me talk. He used to say it was endearing and that it showed how full of life I was.

I knew he just didn't love me anymore.

I pulled up my phone again and quickly typed, "If being married to me is such a chore, let's get a divorce."

Marvin didn't even look up. He just rubbed his temples, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Are you giving me the silent treatment now? Is this your new way of punishing me?"

My lips parted, but my throat felt like it was splitting open.

When I didn't answer, he finally snapped. "Relationships take compromise, Hannah. Just because you have a psychological condition doesn't mean I always have to be the one to back down and cater to you. Honestly, loving you has always been exhausting."

My mind went entirely blank.

So, loving me had been nothing but a chore.

Marvin slammed the door behind him as he left.

I picked up my phone and reached out to a lawyer. First, to file charges against the madman who attacked me. Second, to draft the divorce papers.

From now on, Marvin's world would be perfectly quiet.