At first, I thought I would get used to it with time. But actually, I was starting to feel even more uncomfortable and didn’t want to be close to my husband anymore.

Mehera had been married for almost two years, and I had a lovely son. From the outside, my family seemed quiet: my husband went to work regularly, my wife looked after the kids in a small apartment in Andheri, Mumbai. Everyone thought I was living happily.

But only I knew that there was an invisible “crack” in this house that was constantly widening, and that was because of one little thing that bothered me every day: My husband—Rohan—had a huge tattoo of his ex-girlfriend on his body.

I knew about that tattoo at the very beginning. At that time, blind love made me see him as a scar of the past, and convinced myself that time would erase everything.

But I was wrong. After the wedding, when we were intimate, the tattoo was clearly visible, like a provocation, like a reminder that my husband had another deep love. The tattoo was written “Ishita” in curved script on the left side of her chest, almost half of her shoulder, along with a bright lotus flower. Every time I saw it, my heart felt suffocated.

I have suggested this many times. When we were first married, I chose my words very gently:

“Can you remove this tattoo, so I can feel more safe?”

But Rohan ignored it. She said that the tattoo is too big, it would be painful and expensive to remove. She further added:

“It doesn’t make sense anymore, don’t think about it too much.” ”

I kept quiet, but deep inside, jealousy kept gnawing at me every day.

Whenever we were intimate, I couldn’t focus on my relationship. Instead of feeling her warmth, I was surrounded by the image of another woman “present” on my husband’s body.

Sometimes I would turn away, sometimes I would make excuses for fatigue. Gradually, I lost interest, even afraid of being “intimate.” I felt like I was sharing a shadow of the past with this man.

I became even more irritable. I would argue about the little things in the house. Actually, I knew the root of it was that tattoo, but I didn’t want to talk about it again because I was afraid of hearing more rejection. I was angry at him, but also angry at myself that I couldn’t control the feeling.

Once, in a fit of rage, I suddenly blurted out:

“Have you ever thought how I felt when I saw that tattoo? Do you love me or do you still keep a part of it for her?”

Rohan was silent and then he said something that left me speechless:

“It doesn’t mean anything to you anymore, it’s just the body.” Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”

I felt like I was a worthless person, a selfish person, but at the same time, I felt even more unhappy.

I know some women who accept their husbands’ past, just see tattoos as ink on the skin—but not me. For me, it’s a vibrant, breathing memory that my husband once loved immensely to anyone else.

I also tried to know about tattoo removal services in Bandra—took a printout of the details, cost, procedure—and showed them. But each time, she just shook her head, saying it was unnecessary, that I was exaggerating.

The quarrel grew. Just from being upset inside, I was now constantly fighting. I blamed my husband for being heartless, regretted my luck, and even thought about divorce.

I felt that I no longer had any respect in this marriage. Outsiders might think I’m crazy—who would give up her husband for a tattoo. But only people in my position can understand how traumatizing it is.

A month ago, we had the biggest fight ever. I pressed the point, saying that if he truly loved me, he should consider removing the tattoo—even if it’s painful.

Rohan shouted angrily, “You don’t love me, only love my immaculate body? How selfish you are!”

These words pierced my heart with a knife. I was silent for days, not wanting to see his face. The family atmosphere was so overwhelming that even my son could feel it.

Last night, as I lay next to my husband, looking at that tattoo in the dim light of a night lamp in a small room on SV Road, my heart was filled with bitterness.

I love my husband, I love my children—but why does something from the past haunt the present to such an extent? I wonder: Am I too weak, or has Rohan never completely given up on his old love?

I don’t know where my marriage will go. I don’t have the courage to leave him, but I also don’t have the courage to accept him.

All I know is that with each passing day, that tattoo keeps swirling around in my mind like a ghost, making our love fade.

I don’t dare say who’s right and who’s wrong—all I know is that the ink on my skin is slowly ruining the whole marriage.