This year I turned 63. I had already been through two marriages, but I still decided to marry a man almost three decades younger than me, despite my children’s strong objections.
Strange things began to happen in the first week of our life together. Every morning I woke up and couldn’t walk — my legs were completely numb. And one night I discovered the terrifying truth behind it all…
My two previous marriages were turbulent. My first husband left me because of poverty, and my second left when I fell ill. But my heart still longed for intimacy. Even at my age, I continued to believe in love. That’s why I married Michael, a 34-year-old fitness trainer who was 29 years younger than me.
Michael was tall, muscular, with a soft but mesmerising voice. We met at a yoga class for seniors, and his gaze lingered on me as if to say, ‘You are still young and beautiful.’ This warmth drew me to him like a moth to a flame. My children — Emily, 40, and David, 35 — protested vehemently. But I declared, ‘I can’t live only for my children. I deserve to be happy too.’ And I signed the marriage papers.
But within a week, alarming symptoms began to appear. Every morning, my legs felt weak, as if all my strength had disappeared overnight. I blamed it on age — or perhaps on Michael’s excessive passion, because at exactly 11 p.m. every night, he insisted on… well, let’s just say going beyond my physical limits.
One night, unable to bear it any longer, I called Emily:
‘Come and get me tomorrow…’
But before dawn, I woke up and realised Michael wasn’t in bed. My legs tingled from numbness as I made my way to the flickering light in the living room. And then I froze.
Michael was sitting cross-legged in front of a small table. He was wearing a black shirt, his hair combed back, shining in the candlelight, casting strange shadows on his face. In front of him lay a paper figure in the shape of a man and a bowl of clean water. He bowed deeply, saying something in a language I did not understand.
I clung to the doorframe in horror as he took out a needle and began to prick the paper figure. With each prick, a sharp pain shot through my legs, as if a thousand needles were piercing my flesh. My blood ran cold. He wasn’t meditating — he was casting a spell. And I was the target.
The vase fell from my trembling hands and shattered with a crash. Michael raised his head, his gaze cold and calculating.
‘Are you awake now?’ His voice was soft, but there was an ominous chill in it.
I stumbled backwards.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m only doing this because I want you to love me forever. At your age, who else do you have besides me? You’ll need me. You’ll never leave if you get sick.’
It hit me like a bolt of lightning. His ‘love’ was a lie. His care and kind words were just a trap to make me dependent, to control and exhaust me.
Emily arrived in the morning. Strangely, my body had recovered overnight. Michael looked panicked, as if his ritual had not worked.
‘I know everything, Michael,’ I told him firmly.
Emily admitted that she had suspected him for a long time. She had installed a hidden camera in the house, and after seeing his ritual, she replaced the doll and the bowl of water with protective charms. That’s why I regained my strength.
We immediately went to the police. Michael was arrested for fraud and manipulation. My third marriage ended in betrayal, but I came out of this ordeal wiser.
I realised that love should never be based on fear or blind worship.
