Is it a form of self-inflicted humiliation if a husband keeps obsessing over his wife’s past relationships? Because that’s exactly what it feels like—watching my husband torment himself over men who are nothing more than memories to me.

It started subtly, little comments here and there. A casual joke about my exes, a question about my past that seemed innocent enough. But over time, it escalated. He’d scroll through my old photos, dissecting details, searching for comparisons. He’d press me for information I had long forgotten—how they made me feel, how they treated me, whether they were better than him in any way. His jealousy wasn’t about the present; it was about battles that had already been fought and lost, relationships that had ended long before he ever entered my life.

At first, I tried to reassure him. I told him he was the only one who mattered, that my past had shaped me but didn’t define my love for him. But no matter what I said, he couldn’t let it go. His mind had become a prison, trapping him in scenarios he invented, competing with ghosts that never asked to be part of our marriage.

I watch him suffer, and I wonder—does he even realize he’s doing this to himself? That the pain, the insecurity, the comparisons… they aren’t coming from me. They’re his own creation, a cruel game where he always loses. And the worst part? I don’t know how to save him from himself.