*Tokini, 28, never thought marriage was in the cards for her. A childhood marked by loss and trauma convinced her it wasn’t worth the risk. But two years into a marriage where her husband rubs her feet, fills her water bottle every night and never lets her lift a finger, she’s terrified — not because the love is fading, but because she doesn’t know if she’ll ever find this kind of love again if she loses him.
This is a look into Tokini’s marriage diary.
I never saw myself getting married
I didn’t grow up dreaming of marriage. My mum died when I was young, and I watched my dad spiral into depression. It was a scary sight. I saw firsthand what it meant to lose a partner, and I didn’t want to feel that kind of pain. On top of that, I didn’t know what a typical family dynamic looked like. The few examples I saw around me felt off. Women in those marriages seemed like second-class citizens while their husbands were kings. I couldn’t picture myself in that kind of setup.
That changed when I joined a religious group. I started seeing married couples who actually looked like they enjoyed each other’s company. During prayer sessions, they’d hold hands. They had kids, but still called each other “babe” and “sweetheart.” They looked like best friends. I remember seeing a man I respected use his handkerchief to wipe his wife’s sweaty cleavage. It was such a tender moment, and I was mesmerised. It was the first time I thought, “Maybe marriage isn’t so bad. But what are the chances of finding a man like this?”
Eventually, I started dating and got married.
But I had to overcome a lot of trauma. I was molested as a child, first by a neighbour and later by my dad. He used to drink a lot after my mum died, and did things he wouldn’t even remember. That experience messed with how I saw my body. I didn’t feel like it was something to be protected — I had to protect it myself. But my husband was the first person who truly respected my body. He made me feel like I deserved care. He’s the one who first told me, “You need to cherish your body.”
Marriage has made me realise how spoilt I am
I’ve always been on the big side, so before marriage, I was used to eating just once a day, maybe snacking on biscuits when I felt hungry. Cooking wasn’t really part of my life.
Now I’m married, and the biggest surprise has been how much thought and planning go into food. If we’re going out tomorrow, I have to think of what we’ll eat before leaving. If we’re travelling, I need to plan light meals. The mental load is overwhelming.
My husband tries his best to lighten the load. When I complained about sweeping and cleaning, he got a cleaner. When I grumbled about laundry, he got a dry cleaner and eventually hired someone who does all the laundry. We also have someone who shops for food and preps it, like cleaning the vegetables.
Still, with five soups in the freezer, we’ll be stuck figuring out what to eat at night. I make suggestions and he goes, “Oh, I’ve had too much rice,” or “I’d have preferred beans and plantain.” That cycle can be exhausting.
But the truth is, I’ve become so spoilt in this marriage. I don’t cook every day, I don’t do laundry, I don’t clean, and I still find myself complaining. Sometimes I feel ungrateful. I think, “Some people will kill for this life.” But I just want a break. I want my husband to look at me one day and say, “You’re the love of my life. Don’t do anything for the next three days. I’ll serve you, massage your feet, just rest.” I don’t want to be the one bringing up eating out or what to cook. I want to be cared for — the way he’s always done — without asking.
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Sometimes I hurt my husband with my words, and I hate it
We had an argument once that made me question if I was cut out for marriage because I said a lot. That’s my problem: When I’m deeply hurt, I go all in with my words, trying to make the other person understand my pain. When their reaction isn’t as strong for me, I keep going; I keep driving home the point to make them see what they’ve done to me. I don’t do this with other people — with them, I choose my words carefully. But with my husband, I keep pushing and talking.
The problem with that is that I end up hurting my husband. The worst part is that he’s such a calm communicator. He never yells or lashes out. But I sometimes say so much that it hurts him, and then I have to apologise. That cycle has made me question if I was even ready for marriage.
It’s not that we don’t communicate well — we both do. But our communication is often laced with emotions. We try to keep things calm and avoid hurting each other, but honestly, the heated emotions are already present when we talk.
Take frustration, for example. I tend to get irritated easily. Sometimes, we’re heading out, and I just want him to open the car door. He needs to press a button for me to open it from my side, but he’ll be on the phone, chatting away, completely distracted.
I don’t know who I’d be if I lost him
The thought of my husband dying terrifies me. I’m so aware of mortality because of how I grew up. And frankly, I’d rather die than watch him die. I can’t imagine meeting someone new or starting over. He’s done so much for me — and spoilt me so thoroughly — that I don’t know who else could match up.
He rubs my stomach during my periods, ensures I have warm water and socks, and checks that I’m cosy. He fills up my water bottle with cold water every night, reminds me to sleep on time, rest and do my skincare. I hate skincare, and he still makes sure I do it. He shaves me. He tells me I’m beautiful every day. Even when I haven’t made my hair, he gives me money for it and still says I look gorgeous.
I’ve never bought fuel since we got married. I don’t take out the trash. I don’t open the gate. He does everything. I make my own money, but I’m fully dependent on this man. I don’t ever want him to fall sick for just a minute. Where will I start if I ever lose him?
Marriage has grown me into a more confident version of myself
I’ve gained weight since I married, and we haven’t had kids yet. But my husband never makes me feel less than. He tells me I’m beautiful. He encourages me when I go on random diets, even though I never follow through. He builds me up.
Before him, I dated someone who constantly made comments about my body. He wrecked my self-esteem. But now? Even though I’m bigger, I feel more confident. I know my worth, and I won’t let anyone treat me like I’m not deserving of love and respect.
If I could talk to my unmarried self, I’d tell her to stop worrying so much. I used to magnify everything — if he said, “I’ll call you later,” I’d demand to know what time “later” was. If he missed the call, I’d bring it up and ask how he’d keep to his word in marriage.
I took everything seriously because I didn’t want to make a mistake with whoever I married. But I’d tell younger me to chill. He’s human. Mistakes don’t mean he doesn’t love you.
Now I understand him better. When he’s quiet during a disagreement, it’s not pride. It’s that he needs time to think and process. He’s not like me — I’m a force. I’m intense. He needs time to see my perspective. And that’s something I now appreciate deeply.
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