I was once there, not as a wife but as a fiancee. I was in my mid 20s, he's Lebanese and from a culture where they turn blind eye in women being beaten. I kept trying to leave but I didn't want to put my family in agony as I defended this man from them. No wonder my big bro didn't want him from the start. He was good to me on the first year, then when we got engaged that's when he started treating me like a punching bag. I would go visit my family wearing a hat because he would hit my head on the wall. I tried to call the police and he saw me, wrapped the telephone cord on my neck. I still stayed for 6 months more, imagine being black and blue then being ask to get up to make him coffee and food. It was hell but I couldn't easily escape. The last straw was when he kicked me both sides while on the floor, and I could see the fear of my cats hiding under the couch. I could also see my reflection on a nearby mirror. The moment he went out, I ran to our Thai landlady and just asked for help. Her along with a British-Thai couple in her office that day helped me. It was until the next day I called my family and my brother wanted to kill him.
Sorry for the novel haha, just sharing why walking away isn't that easy. You always hope that he'll change, unfortunately monsters were born monsters.