When our kids fell ill and couldn’t go on our planned family vacation, my husband just ditched us and went alone. What he didn’t know was that his little “me time” getaway would cost him way more than he bargained for.
I trdged through the front door at 8:30 p.m., my feet throbbing after a grueling twelve-hour shift at the hospital. The cacophony hit me like a wall: cartoons blaring from the TV, Zach and Penny shrieking as they chased each other around the living room.
And there was Garrett, sprawled on the couch like a beached whale, beer in hand.
“Hey, babe,” he called out, not bothering to look up from his phone. “Rough day?”
I bit back a sarcastic reply. “You could say that. The ER was a madhouse.” I glanced at the disaster zone of toys and snack wrappers surrounding him. “Did you feed the kids dinner?”
Garrett shrugged. “They had some chips earlier. I figured you’d want to cook when you got home.”
I closed my eyes, counting to ten. This had become our new normal over the past few years. I’d come home from saving lives to find a house in chaos and a husband who couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger.
“Mommy!” Penny latched onto my leg, her blonde pigtails askew. “I’m starving!”
I forced a smile. “Okay, sweetie. Let’s get you both some real food.”
As I reheated leftovers, my mind drifted to our upcoming beach vacation. Maybe a change of scenery would help us reconnect, remind Garrett why we fell in love in the first place.
“So, you packed for the trip yet?” I asked, setting plates in front of the kids.
Garrett grunted. “Nah, I’ll throw some stuff in a bag tomorrow. No big deal.”
I sighed. “We leave in two days, Garrett. A little planning wouldn’t kill you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Relax, it’ll be fine. You worry too much.”
The night before our flight, I woke to the sound of retching. Zach was hunched over the toilet, his face pale and clammy. Within an hour, Penny was sick too.
I gently broke the news to Garrett over breakfast. “We’ll have to postpone the trip. The kids have a nasty stomach bug.”
He froze, fork halfway to his mouth. “What? No way. I’ve been looking forward to this for months!”
“I know, but they’re too sick to travel. We can reschedule”
Garrett’s jaw clenched. “I’m still going.”
I stared at him, sure I’d misheard. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I need this break, Nora. Work’s been insane lately.”
“And my job isn’t?” I snapped. “I’m a nurse, Garrett. I deal with real emergencies every day.”
He scoffed. “It’s not a competition. Look, you stay with the kids. I’ll go enjoy the beach for both of us.”
I watched in disbelief as he packed his suitcase, ignoring Zach and Penny’s disappointed faces. As the front door slammed behind him, something inside me snapped.
The next week was hell. I juggled caring for two miserable children, all while stewing in rage every time Garrett sent a smug beach selfie.
On Friday, my phone buzzed with another photo: Garrett grinning over a fancy cocktail, caption reading “Living the dream!”
That was it. I had had enough, and I had a plan.
I marched into the garage, surveying Garrett’s precious “man cave.” His fishing gear, the boat he’d barely used, piles of expensive junk he’d accumulated over the years. A plan formed in my mind.
I spent the next few hours photographing everything, creating listings on the local buy-and-sell site. Within days, Garrett’s prized possessions were gone, replaced by a fat wad of cash in my purse.
“Guess what, kids?” I announced over breakfast. “We’re going on our own special vacation!”
Their eyes lit up. Zach pumped his fist. “Awesome! Where are we going?”
I grinned. “It’s a surprise. But I promise it’ll be even better than Dad’s boring old beach.”
We arrived at the resort a few days later, the kids bouncing with excitement. As I watched them splash in the pool, I felt lighter than I had in years.
“Mom, watch this!” Zach called, attempting a cannonball. I cheered, then turned to help Penny blow up her water wings.
“You’re a natural with them,” a voice behind me said. I turned to see a woman about my age smiling. “Single mom?”
I hesitated. “It’s… complicated.”
She nodded knowingly. “I’ve been there. I’m Tessa, by the way.”
We chatted as the kids played, swapping stories about work and parenthood. It felt good to connect with someone who understood.
“So, what’s your story?” Tessa asked, sipping her lemonade.
I sighed. “My husband decided to go on our family vacation without us when the kids got sick. Left me to deal with everything while he partied on the beach.”
Tessa’s eyes widened. “Seriously? What a jerk!”
I nodded. “Yeah, it was the last straw. I’ve been putting up with his selfishness for years, but this — I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“So what did you do?” she asked.
A mischievous smile crept across my face. “I sold all his precious toys and used the money to bring the kids here.”
Tessa burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that’s brilliant! How’d he take it?”
“He doesn’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”
As if on cue, my phone started buzzing. Garrett’s name flashed on the screen.
“Speaking of the devil,” I muttered. “I should probably take this.”
Tessa gave me an encouraging nod. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
I stepped away from the pool, taking a deep breath before answering. “Hello?”
“Where the hell is all my stuff?” Garrett shouted, not bothering with a greeting.
I leaned against a palm tree, surprisingly calm. “Oh, you noticed? I thought you’d be too busy ‘living the dream’ to care.”
“Don’t play games, Nora. What did you do?”
“I sold it,” I said simply. “All of it. Your precious fishing rods, that boat you never use, everything.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, “You what? How could you!”
“How could I?” I interrupted, my voice rising. “How could you abandon your sick children for a beach vacation? How could you ignore everything I do for this family?”
“That’s different! I work hard to provide for you.”
“And I don’t?” I shot back. “I’m done, Garrett. Done with your selfishness, done with being taken for granted.”
He sputtered, “What are you saying?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m saying I want a divorce.”
The line went quiet. When Garrett spoke again, his voice was low and dangerous. “You’ll regret this, Nora. I’ll make sure of it.”
I hung up, my hands shaking. Part of me wanted to cry, to mourn the life we’d built together. But a larger part felt… free.
I walked back to the pool, where Tessa was indulging in a cocktail.
“Everything okay?” she asked, concern etched on her face.
I nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah, I think it will be. I just told my husband I want a divorce.”
Tessa’s eyes widened. “Wow, that’s huge. How do you feel?”
“Scared,” I admitted. “But also relieved? Like I can finally breathe again.”
She squeezed my hand. “That’s totally normal. Trust me, it gets better.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the kids, building elaborate sandcastles and splashing in the waves. For the first time in years, I felt genuinely happy.
That night, as I tucked the kids into bed, Zach looked up at me with serious eyes. “Mom, are you and Dad getting divorced?”
My breath caught in my throat. “Why do you ask that, sweetie?”
He shrugged. “I heard you on the phone. And you seem happier here without him.”
I sat on the edge of his bed, choosing my words carefully. “Your dad and I have been having problems for a while now. We’re going to try to work things out, but… yes, we might get divorced.”
Zach nodded solemnly. “Okay. As long as you’re happy, Mom. That’s what matters.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I hugged him tight. “When did you get so wise, huh?”
After the kids were asleep, I stood on the balcony, watching the moonlight dance on the waves. My phone buzzed with a text from Garrett:
“This isn’t over. I’ll see you in court.”
I took a deep breath, letting the ocean air fill my lungs. The road ahead would be tough, but I felt ready to face whatever came my way.
As I crawled into bed, I thought about the uncertain future ahead of us. It was terrifying, yes, but also exhilarating. For the first time in years, I felt like I was taking control of my life.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, I let the sound of the ocean lull me to sleep, dreaming of the fresh start waiting on the horizon.
What would you have done?
My husband wanted a divorce because I couldn’t give him a son. What happened next changed our lives forever.
Marriage had always been a partnership of love and support, or at least that’s what I believed when Steve and I first tied the knot 16 years ago. Over time, we were blessed with five beautiful daughters, each one a joy and a challenge in her own way. Yet, in Steve’s eyes, our family lacked something crucial: a son.
Steve’s desire for a male heir became an obsession, overshadowing every happy moment we had. His traditional mindset dictated that a man’s legacy could only be carried on by a son, and our daughters, no matter how wonderful, were seen as inadequate. This belief had eaten away at the fabric of our marriage, turning our once joyous union into a battleground of unmet expectations and silent resentment.
Steve’s job kept him away most of the time, leaving me to juggle the responsibilities of raising our daughters, maintaining the household, and managing a part-time online job. His absence wasn’t just physical; it was emotional too. He was a shadow in our home, present yet distant, and his discontent seeped into every corner of our lives.
The Breaking Point
One late night, a seemingly innocent conversation spiraled into a full-blown argument. I had suggested trying one more time for a son, even though I was already forty. Steve’s response was brutal and laced with years of pent-up frustration.
“Shut up already,” he snapped. “We’ve been together for 16 years and you couldn’t bring me a son. What makes you think you will do it this time?”
I tried to reason with him, “But Steve, only God…”
“ONLY GOD DECIDED TO PUNISH ME WITH YOU AND ANOTHER 5 FEMALES,” he yelled, his face contorted with anger. “I wish I could go back in time and change everything.”
The venom in his words was palpable, and it stung more than any physical blow could. Our daughters, our life together, everything we had built was being torn down in this moment of raw emotion. Suddenly, we heard a noise behind the door. When we checked, there was no one there, and we dismissed it as the creaking of an old house. Little did we know, that sound was a harbinger of the events that would soon unfold.
The Missing Child
The next day, our lives took an unexpected turn. It was 6 pm, and Lisa, our 12-year-old, was always home by this time. Panic set in when she didn’t show up. As worry gnawed at us, Sara, our second-born, came running with tears streaming down her face, clutching a letter.
Steve snatched the letter from her hand and began reading. His face went ashen, his eyes widened with fear. He turned to me, his voice trembling, “This is serious.”
The letter was a ransom note. It claimed that Lisa had been kidnapped and demanded an exorbitant amount of money for her safe return. The instructions were clear: no police, no tricks, or we’d never see her again.
The Race Against Time
Our world was shattered. The next hours were a blur of frantic phone calls, desperate plans, and heart-wrenching decisions. Steve, usually stoic and composed, was a mess. His obsession with having a son seemed insignificant now compared to the possibility of losing his daughter.
The experience taught us that the value of family isn’t determined by gender but by the love, respect, and support we give each other. Steve learned to cherish his daughters and our marriage, realizing that true happiness comes from within and is nurtured by the bonds we share.
Our lives were forever changed by that harrowing experience, but it also brought us closer, forging a stronger, more resilient family. The past year had been incredibly tough, but it led to a new beginning, one where we could all be truly happy together.
Leave a Reply