Growing up in the leafy city of Shiraz in Iran, Noosh lived two lives.
"When you are born and live in Iran, you find out about this inside/outside life," Noosh tells ABC podcast Days Like These.
In public places, she wore hijab and abided by modesty laws, even though she wasn't a practising Muslim. At home, she dressed and acted as she pleased.
Noosh has "beautiful memories" of her childhood and adolescence.
But everything changed for the worse after she met a guy in an online chatroom while her parents were away in the UK, during the summer after her 18th birthday.
This is Noosh's story, in her words
When we first started chatting, it was really fun. There was chemistry and a connection there.
He lived really far away — in the north of Iran.
It would have been at least 15 or 16 hours' drive to my city.
But at the end of that summer, just before my parents came home, we decided he should visit.
I just wanted to see him in person and maybe hold his hand. And after we met, I knew there was definitely some kind of buzz there between us.
So, when my parents got home, I told my mum I met someone (I didn't tell her the part that he was in the house). We got permission from our families to date.
We were boyfriend and girlfriend for a year-and-a-half, during which time he finished uni, moved to the capital [Tehran] and started his military service.
After he finished that and started work our families agreed we could marry and, following our wedding, I moved to Tehran to live with him.
I think I was good at being a new wife. There were lots of date nights, cooking nice meals and putting cute notes in his lunch bag.
And I loved our home.
But whenever I went out, I was homesick. I had a sense of being lost. I didn't know the streets, I didn't know people. I really didn't like the culture of the city.
And then, three months after the wedding, I had eye surgery. It was painful and isolating, because the recovery phase was long and I couldn't watch TV or read that much. I was spending lots of time in bed or listening to podcasts and music.
One day, I felt some discomfort in one of my eyes that was a bit out of the ordinary. Worried, I turned to google.
I think my husband had gone to the supermarket and his laptop was on the dining table.
'As soon as I turned it on, I saw different chats with different people all at the same time. And they were all women'
They were sending him nudes.
Because I was in recovery, it was important for me not to cry, but I couldn't control it. The tears were coming down.
Not long after that, we tried marriage counselling following my mum's advice, and things seemed to get better at first.
But then something would trigger him and the cheating would spike and it didn't get better over time.
So, I turned to my mother-in-law for advice. And her response was to take me shopping for lingerie and to lay the blame for the cheating on me.
She said: "Well, as a woman you hold some sort of responsibility. Your husband is like a tabletop and it's the woman's responsibility to be the legs of that table, to hold the relationship and the marriage together."
I started wondering what would happen if I left him.
Should I get divorced and go back to my mum's house?
But when you get divorced in Iran as a woman, it's really bad. You're seen differently and you can't have any sort of life. I didn't want to be in that position.
And so, while I considered leaving, I didn't act on it.
'Then we had to leave Iran for our safety'
After a year of marriage, cheating and counselling, we immigrated to Australia.
My husband had been involved in some political stuff, so we had to leave very quickly.
The move didn't really bring us together, but navigating the newness of a different country made us more dependent on one another because we didn't have family or friends, only each other.
He continued the cheating in Australia — often with women in the Iranian community, who were some of the few people I knew.
When we were in Iran and I would find out he was cheating, he would apologise and write me a letter or give me flowers to try and make up for it.
But he became more defensive when I would find out about his cheating after we moved here, and it would turn into a big fight.
He'd say, "Well, you're not good enough and you're not good in bed and I'm not really satisfied with you and we're not having sex that often. I have needs."
'I did everything in my power to be "better" for him'
But nothing I tried worked. I started doubting myself. My confidence and self-esteem dropped.
Eventually, I decided that even if I couldn't change things in my marriage, I could still try to change something in myself. So, I enrolled in university.
I made lots of good friends there, who supported me in navigating who I was as a person.
My confidence started building slowly and, after I finished my degree, I landed my dream job. For the first time in my married life, I had my own pay packet.
It was at that time I could see that some of the fears I had about living alone weren't there anymore.
It was also around that time I started to notice the "inside/outside" life I was so familiar with in Iran had crept into my life here in Australia, but the situation was reversed.
When I arrived home, I couldn't get out of the car. I didn't want to go inside and pretend everything was OK.
At work, I was confident, trusted and acknowledged. I was known for my humour.
Home was cold.
'Then one day we had a fight that finally broke the cycle'
I went out to get some fresh air. And when I came back, he was packing and he said, "I'm booking an Airbnb, I need some time to think."
As soon as he closed the door, I messaged him and said, "Extend your Airbnb. This is over."
I was lonely and scared. I felt grief over the fact that, for 10 years of my life, I'd stayed.
But I didn't give up. I found a cute home to lease and moved out as soon as I could.
I only took one piece of furniture with me to the new place — our coffee table.
It goes back to the comment his mum made around him being a tabletop and me being the legs.
I love having it with me because it's a reminder whenever I look at it. Whenever I sit on the couch, I remember that I'm no one's table.
Parts of this interview have been edited for clarity and brevity.
This article was adapted from an episode of the ABC's Days Like These podcast, reported by Alex Lollback.