While I Was at Work, My Husband Went to Pick Up the Children, and When I Went to Join Him, He Wouldn’t Open the Door for Me.

Hey love, Ive got to tell you whats been happening, so picture this: I was at the office in Birmingham, and James went off to collect Oliver and Grace. I walked up to his flat, knocked, and he just slammed the door shut on me didnt even bother opening it.

Right now Im staying with my mum and dad, while the kids are with James. Not because he adores them, but because hes decided to punish me this way.

We actually met really well. A mutual mate set us up, we hit it off straight away, and thought there was no point putting off the wedding. A year later we tied the knot, and I was already expecting our first child. Both our families pitched in to find a place they bought us a modest onebed flat. Tiny, sure, but it was ours.

The moment Oliver was born the cracks started to show. James wasnt ready for a newborn who whines all night, for toys scattered everywhere, for diapers hanging from the doorframe. He kept griping that I was glued to the baby 24/7.

A year later we got another piece of good news I was pregnant again. Grace arrived, and things with James went downhill fast. Living in that cramped flat got unbearable, he was irritable all the time, and we were arguing constantly.

He started blaming everything on me that my parents hadnt given us a proper home, that Id put on a few pounds after two births, that I was a terrible mum, that the kids were noisy. It felt like the whole family was slowly falling apart.

I decided to put the kids into a daycare and look for work. Before that Id been a stayathome mum. James started coming home drunk more often, and his demands on me and the children kept mounting. I figured if I could earn my own money, I could leave him and find a place for the three of us.

I landed a job and even met a nice bloke, Tom. We started seeing each other and it was a bit of a breath of fresh air. At home, though, there was nothing but endless cleaning, laundry, cooking, ironing and a drunken husband.

One day I hit my limit and made a decision. I grabbed the kids and left. I stayed a few days at my parents house, then rented a small flat of my own. A few weeks later, while I was at work, James turned up at the nursery and took the children with him. I went over to his flat, and he just wouldnt open the door, even though he was home.

Now hes giving me an ultimatum: either I move back in, or hell file for divorce, keep the kids, and make me pay maintenance. Im terrified because hes got connections and the court could swing in his favour.

The worst part is he barely looks after the kids at all he just uses them to try and control me. Deep down I know that if I dont give in, the children will eventually get fed up with him and come back to me. But I have no idea how long Im supposed to wait for that to happen