MY WIFE DOES DRUGS, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SAVE HER OR TELL Her PARENTS – MAN SHARES PAINFUL STORY

I didn’t find out immediately.

At first, I thought marriage was just overwhelming her. She became withdrawn, slept too much some days and barely slept on others. Her moods changed quickly. She was either unusually energetic or completely distant. I blamed stress. I blamed Lagos. I blamed myself.

Then I started noticing things that didn’t add up.

Money would disappear without explanation. She avoided family gatherings. She became defensive over small questions. Sometimes she would lock herself in the bathroom for long periods. When I asked, she said I was controlling.

I wanted to believe her.

The truth came one night when I accidentally saw what she was hiding. My heart sank. I felt like the ground opened beneath me. This was the woman I loved, the woman her parents trusted me with.

I confronted her gently.

She broke down.

She told me it started before our marriage something she used to “cope.” She said she planned to stop. She said she didn’t want to disappoint me or shame her family. She said she was already ashamed.

I didn’t shout. I didn’t beat her. I just sat there, confused and scared.

Since that day, I’ve been living with fear.

Fear that she might harm herself.

Fear that neighbours might notice.

Fear that her parents would blame me.

Fear that speaking up would destroy our marriage.

Fear that staying silent would destroy her.

In Nigeria, people talk about drug addiction like it’s only a personal failure. Nobody talks about the spouse who is watching helplessly. Nobody teaches you how to tell your in-laws that their daughter is struggling. Nobody tells you how to love someone who is slowly disappearing.

I tried handling it alone.

I monitored her movements. I begged. I threatened. I prayed. Some days she promised to stop. Other days she denied everything. Each time I thought things were improving, something else happened.

And the guilt became heavier.

Her parents call me often. They praise me for “taking care of their daughter.” They tell me how proud they are of her. Every call feels like a lie I am forced to continue.

I ask myself every day:

Should I protect my wife’s secret or protect her life?

I’m tired.

I love her, but love alone doesn’t cure addiction. Silence doesn’t heal it either. And I’m slowly realizing that keeping quiet may make me part of the problem.

I don’t know how this story will end.

All I know is that many Nigerian marriages are fighting battles nobody sees and some of them are being lost in silence.