The Silence She Swallowed
- Aishatu Sali
- Apr 8, 2025
- 2 min read
She sits in a circle of women, all talking laughing like life is a bouquet of roses.
They speak of love as though it still comes with butterflies.
As though their hearts haven’t been bruised by reality.
As though their nights aren’t heavy with the weight of pretending.
She smiles.
Not because she wants to.
But because she has mastered the art of appearing whole.
Because silence is safer than honesty in a world that doesn’t know what to do with broken truths.
They talk about their men
About breakfast in bed,
About flowers on ordinary days,
About being seen, wanted, touched… gently.
She nods.
But her body feels like a checklist.
Intimacy for her is no longer affection it’s obligation.
It’s the way her voice disappears in the bedroom.
It’s the way she flinches at compliments because they feel rehearsed, not real.
They talk about dreams, starting businesses, traveling the world.
They talk about chasing purpose, about feeling alive.
She stirs her coffee, cold and untouched, like her passions once hot, now frozen.
Because how does she explain that her dreams were exchanged for survival?
That she once had fire but traded it for duty?
That every day she wakes up asking:
“Is this it? Is this all there is?”
She scrolls through social media later that night, seeing perfect smiles, captioned joys, and filtered realities.
She wonders
Do they also cry in the dark?
Do they, too, lie beside someone and feel completely alone?
She wants to ask.
She wants to scream.
But she doesn’t.
Because some truths are heavier than they seem.
Some pain is easier to swallow than to say aloud.
So she folds her truth into silence… again.
(c) Boddobodes
By Aishatu Sali
So many married women suffer in silence—trapped between expectations and exhaustion, between pretending and pain. Behind the smiling photos and family titles, some carry stories too heavy for words. silence doesn’t always mean peace. Some silences are survival.
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