Everything Can Shift in an Instant with a Sociopath!

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By O.N. Ward

Every week, a chapter from my book, “Husband, Liar, Sociopath: How He Deceived Me, Why I Fell for It, & the Painful Lessons Learned” (available on Amazon—just click the title or book cover), will be featured here on Lovefraud. To read earlier chapters, please refer to the links at the bottom of the post.

Chapter 12: What Just Happened?

Chad and I returned to Minneapolis late on a Saturday and enjoyed a relaxing Sunday together. Both of us were set to go back to work on Monday morning. I hadn’t worked during our entire honeymoon or even checked in with the office. My colleagues and supervisor knew I was away and wouldn’t be reachable. However, before I left, I had been working with a client based in Cincinnati. Some weeks we worked side by side with them in Cincinnati, while other times we operated from the Minneapolis office. I needed to confirm where I was supposed to be on Monday and whether I needed to book a flight to Cincinnati.

I procrastinated checking in with my teammates until early Sunday evening. If I failed to reach someone, I could end up in the wrong place the next morning—a potentially disastrous career mistake. Why had I waited so long?

To avoid disturbing Chad, who was watching TV in the living room, I made the call from our makeshift home office (no email back then). Fortunately, Brian, one of my coworkers, answered immediately. He informed me that the team would not be traveling that week. My worries about a career blunder dissipated, allowing me to enjoy our final night of the honeymoon.

As I returned to the living room, Chad stood in the doorway.

“Who was that?” he snapped, his face flushed, shoulders tense.

“Just Brian from work,” I replied, startled by Chad’s anger.

His expression stiffened further. “Why are you calling Brian? Who is he to you?”

“Our honeymoon isn’t over, but I needed to confirm where to go for work tomorrow. You’ve met Brian. He’s just a colleague. I waited too long to call and was getting anxious.”

“Our honeymoon isn’t over!” Chad retorted, his jaw clenched and his piercing gaze pinning me down like prey. “Our honeymoon lasts until I say it’s over!”

I recoiled. My heart raced. My friend from college, Lisa, would have known what to do—find a way to leave quietly the next day, stay with a friend, and annul the marriage. But I was baffled by what had just occurred. All I knew was that I wanted Chad’s fury to vanish.

“I’m sooo sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t make any more calls tonight. Let’s just make the rest of the night special.”

“You’ve already ruined it,” Chad said before leaving the room.

My head spun, and my heart thumped loudly. I returned to the living room, where Chad was glued to the TV. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, making it clear I wasn’t welcome on the couch. Feeling out of place, I went back to the office.

With my thoughts racing and my heart pounding, I instinctively tried to reconcile the disconnect between my perception of Chad’s behavior and my beliefs about him. To maintain my image of my new husband as a wonderful person, I convinced myself there had to be a valid reason for his anger. Maybe he was stressed about returning to work. Maybe he was sad our honeymoon was ending. Maybe I was inconsiderate for calling then. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Yet, I couldn’t shake the unsettling interaction. That night, an icy distance enveloped us in bed, and I slept restlessly.

The following morning, typical of sociopaths, Chad acted as if our tense exchange had never occurred. Not wanting to address an uncomfortable topic before we returned to work, I postponed the conversation until later.

“You’re being silly,” Chad said, his tone gentle, even playful when I finally mentioned it after dinner. “When you’re tired, you tend to blow things out of proportion. It was nothing. I haven’t thought about it again. I wasn’t angry. I don’t know why you would think that.”

“But you said, ‘Our honeymoon isn’t over until I say it’s over,’ and that really upset me,” I replied.

“I’d never say something like that,” Chad responded.

“Chad, it truly upset me.”

He looked at me, his calm demeanor unshaken. “Do you genuinely believe I would say that?”

“You just sounded really angry with me for making that call.”

“What do you think I said?” Chad asked.

“Something like, ‘Our honeymoon isn’t over until I say it’s over,’” I answered.

“Onna,” Chad continued in the softest, smoothest voice, “I don’t recall saying that, and if I did, it could only have been in jest.”

“It didn’t seem like that,” I replied.

“Why are you making this so difficult?” Chad asked. “You were clearly overreacting last night. Now you’re upsetting me. It seems like you’re accusing me of lying.”

That stopped me cold. I began to doubt myself. Had I been tired? Had I been too sensitive? What exactly did Chad say? Maybe he was right. I replayed the evening in my mind. My memory didn’t match Chad’s at all, but he was so assured and calm in his version, his memory steadfast. The clarity of our previous night’s interaction faded. What truly happened? I clung to what seemed clear to me—the Chad I knew, the man I married, could never intentionally say something hurtful like that. It must have been me.

“I’m so sorry, Chad,” I said, anxious that I had upset him. “I don’t know why I was so bothered last night. I suppose I was just tired and disappointed our honeymoon was ending.”

“It’s alright,” Chad said, his soothing voice returning. “I love you. Don’t stress. It’s no big deal.”

He leaned in and planted a gentle, lingering kiss on my forehead.

I sighed. “Thank you for being so understanding. I love you too.”

With our conflict resolved, I was overwhelmed with emotions—confused about what had just transpired, bewildered by my recollection of the previous evening, and embarrassed for being upset in the first place. However, I also felt “off”—a lingering anxiety I couldn’t pinpoint. Chad and I had a misunderstanding. We talked it out. We resolved it. I loved Chad, and he loved me. Everything seemed fine, but the nagging feedback from my emotions indicated that all was not well, that something was deeply wrong.

To learn more about sociopathy and how it manifests in relationships, check out this insightful resource on asocial versus antisocial behavior.

Start from the beginning:

Chapter 1

Go to the previous chapter:

Chapter 11

Go to the next chapter:

Chapter 13

Note: Names, places, and events discussed here and in my book have been altered to protect the identities of everyone involved.

Chanci Turner