For ten years I was his wife in every way, platos except for one thing – our official marriage. When I asked him for a signature, he just laughed, “It’s just a piece of paper.” The next morning, his smile disappeared.

I lived with him for ten years as his wife. But when I finally asked him to do it one day, he laughed, “It’s just a piece of paper.” I didn’t object. And that morning, he saw something in the kitchen that made him really afraid to lose me.

My name is Laura. I’m thirty-eight.

I met Michael ten years ago at a mutual friend’s birthday party.

He was calm, attentive and reliable. He always remembered what kind of coffee I liked, he called when he was late, and when I was with him, I felt like I finally found a man I could put on with  family.

A year later, we moved in together.

A few years later we bought a house in a quiet neighborhood.

Because of Michael’s bad credit history, the mortgage was registered solely in my name. I also paid most of my own contribution.

But I never said to him, “This is my home.”

For me, it was our home.

We set up a joint account, paid the bills together, did a renovation, adopted a dog from a shelter and gradually created the life I dreamed of.

Everyone thought of us as a husband and wife.