A man ridicules his unemployed wife, only to come home one day to find her gone. In her search, he discovers a note revealing she intends to divorce him. Can he stop her from doing so and save their marriage?
It was a bright, cold October morning, and Harry was excited about his gaming app presentation, a project he had poured himself into for the past six months.
As the clock struck eight, Harry entered the dining room, preoccupied with his phone, barely acknowledging his wife, Sara, and their sons, Cody and Sonny.
“Morning, honey,” greeted Sara.
“Good morning, Daddy,” the boys chimed in unison.
Ignoring them, Harry grabbed a toast and rushed back to his room.
“Sara, where’s my white shirt?” Harry’s voice boomed from the room.
“It’s in the wash with the other whites,” Sara replied.
Harry stormed into the dining room. “That’s my lucky shirt! I needed it for today!”
“I didn’t have enough whites for a full load until now. You have other white shirts!!”
“This is a big day for me, and you’re making excuses?” Harry retorted.
“You’re overreacting, Harry. Your presentation is what matters. It’s just a shirt. So stop barking, alright?”
“Oh really? I’m barking? You wanna do this now?”
“Do what, Harry? You’re making a scene for a stupid little thing. And nobody would be interested in what color shirt you’re wearing when all eyes would be fixed on your goddamn presentation.”
“A goddamn presentation? Come again…Did you just say that? Do you have any idea how I’ve been busting my butt off day and night for that project?”
“Watch your words. The kids….”
“You sit at home all day doing nothing,” Harry blurted out. “Is it too hard to remember one simple thing? All you do is Blah Blah Blah and NOTHING at home.”
“Harry, stop this. The kids are watching. You’re scaring them.”
“Oh really? And nobody watches you when you’re on the goddamn phone gossiping all the time with your friends. Nobody watches that, huh, Sara? You can never be a good wife if you can’t do even a simple thing for me!”
Harry dressed up in a random suit and stormed out of the house, grabbing his briefcase.
After a successful presentation and bagging the promotion, Harry anticipated an apology call from Sara – something she always did after their fights. But this time, there were no calls.
Thinking he would win her apology anyway, he returned home with white roses but found the apartment empty. A note from Sara on the table read, “I want a divorce.”
Confused and worried, Harry called Sara’s sister, Zara, who informed him that Sara was in the hospital. Harry rushed to the hospital, only to face an angry Zara. “You told her she was not ‘wife’ enough for you?”
“Look, we’ll talk about this later, alright?”
Harry rushed to meet the doctor. “Doctor, is my wife alright? Can I see her?”
“It was a mild attack. She’s out of danger. But she needs to take care of her health now. Go ahead and only ten minutes coz she needs to rest.”
Harry shakily walked into the ward, trying to force a smile as he approached Sara.
“Honey, I’m sorry. Please, let me explain. I—”
“I don’t wanna hear anything. I’m done. Divorce is the only thing I want.”
“Wha-What? Why…You’re taking it too far, alright?”
“I had ambitions, plans… I chose you over every opportunity, and it ruined my life,” she said. “It’s too late for your
“Honey, please. We can work this together,” he pleaded.
“No, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be fake to myself. To you. And to the kids. I’m 32, but I feel like a crone. I just hate you, Harry. You’re so disgusting.”
“What about the kids, Sara?”
“I’m in a tough spot to provide for them…So they’re staying with you.”
Harry spoke no more and stormed out of the hospital to pick up his kids from Zara’s house.
At home, he ordered pizza and ice cream for dinner. After tucking the kids into bed, he called his friend Alex, who suggested that Sara might have just cracked up and would be home soon.
The next morning, Harry’s kids awoke him, and as soon as he looked at his watch, he knew he was late! In the morning chaos, Harry burnt the French toast and his shirt while juggling the kids’ school preparations.
“Oh, no, the toast,” he exclaimed, rushing to salvage the breakfast.
“Daddy…Daddy, what’s happening?” the kids asked amidst the chaos.
“It’s just the smoke alarm. Don’t worry,” Harry reassured them, but things only got worse.
He had an important meeting, and he was getting late. “I’ll quickly get ready, and let’s grab something nice to eat on the way to school, yeah?”
He dropped the kids off at school and arrived late at the meeting. “Sorry! Traffic, you know….”
When he returned home in the evening, Harry found signs of Sara’s absence more evident. Her belongings were gone. “Did she leave me for real?” he wondered, overwhelmed.
“Daddy, what happened to Mommy’s pictures and her things?” the boys asked.
Harry, clueless, called Zara.
“Is this some kind of a joke, Zara? Your sister came here. Took all her things. And left me? With the kids?”
Zara coldly informed him, “She’d told you, hadn’t she, Harry? You took my sister for granted.” And then the line went blank.
Five months went by without Sara. Harry struggled to balance work and parenting, and his work performance declined.
One day, his boss, Mr. Adams, invited him for a beer. At the pub, Mr. Adams brought up Harry’s recent work issues.
“Harry, we’ve noticed you’ve been missing deadlines and coming in late. And we’re a business…If you know what I mean,” Mr. Adams said.
Harry, trying to lighten the mood, joked, “So, you plan to let your best game developer go?”
Mr. Adams was also Harry’s friend, and Harry could’ve never prepared himself for what happened next.
“I’m afraid, yes,” Mr. Adams replied seriously. “It’s out of my hands. I’ll give you good recommendations.”
“What? Please, don’t do this! I need this job for my kids.”
Mr. Adams remained silent, leading Harry to storm out in frustration. As he walked away, his phone rang. It was Sara.
“Sara?” Harry said, surprised.
“Harry, can we meet for a quick chat at five? At the café where we first…?” Sara asked.
At a café, Sara met with Harry to discuss their children. She revealed she had been in therapy and now wanted custody.
“Custody?? How dare you? After you left us?” Harry fumed.
“Harry, I’m their mother. I have rights,” Sara insisted.
“You abandoned them, and now you want to take them away? They’re used to me now,” Harry argued.
Sara was determined. “I deserve to have them back. I’ll see you in court.”
Days later, Harry, now adept at managing household chores and balancing a new freelance gig, prepared breakfast for his sons.
“Daddy loves you,” he kissed them goodbye and dropped them at school before heading to the custody trial.
“Mr. Wills, can you please tell us about your attention to your family while you lived together with my client, Miss Sara?” Sara’s lawyer asked Harry.
“Well, I did my best to provide for my family. I worked long hours. Overtime sometimes. I kept myself busy because I wanted to make sure they had everything they needed,” Harry said.
“That’s what most responsible family guys do, right?! And what about your wife’s ambitions? Did she want to build her own career?”
“Before we had our kids…Yes, she did want to work. But after that, she stayed home to look after the kids and the household.”
“Well, looking after the kids…the family…cooking, cleaning. So basically, your wife has been your cook. Your children’s nanny. Your wellwisher. And did you insult her, saying she did nothing at home?”
“I did. Yes, it was an outburst. I was late for office and—”
“Mr. Wills, were you fired from your job? Why were you fired exactly?”
“Objection, Your Honor. This is utterly irrelevant and immaterial to the case,” Harry’s lawyer rose.
“Objection overruled.”
“Thank you, Your Honor!” added Sara’s lawyer. “Mr. Wills, why were you fired from your job?”
After a momentous pause, Harry looked into Sara’s teary eyes and opened up. “Because I couldn’t balance my work and parental duties. I tried, but it was too much. But I didn’t give up. I would never give up on my kids. I love them.”
“Mr. Wills, how are you managing now? How do you intend to support your kids…without a job?”
“I have a job. I can support them well.”
“Be specific, Mr. Wills. What job and what’s the salary?”
“It…It’s a part-time freelance gig. I’m a video editor.”
“Mr. Wills, I admire your confidence despite your climbing down the career ladder! I’m sure you make nothing much like you used to in your previous job, right?” the lawyer added ironically. “A freelance job. Low salary. And raising two kids in today’s recession. Well…That’s all, Your Honor.”
Sara was then called up to the box as Harry’s heart started pounding.
“Ms. Sara, can you please tell us about your life with your husband…I mean, soon-to-be ex-husband?” Harry’s lawyer asked. “Did he ever refuse to give you money or care for you in any way?”
“No…Not at all. He was always generous with our finances. We never had any issues with money.”
“Did Mr. Wills ever raise his hands on you or the kids? Has he ever come home drunk and misbehaved at home?”
“No, he never laid a hand on us. My husband. Sorry. Mr. Wills has never come home drunk.”
“Your husband has taken care of you. You even agreed on that. He’s never laid his hands on you. Then why did you leave him and the kids?”
“I had a nervous breakdown. He was always busy. He would come home and sit with his laptop, barely asking me if I was sick…happy…or sad. I tried to cope. But I couldn’t do it anymore and left. I didn’t want my kids to struggle with me as I wasn’t emotionally stable at that time.”
Harry slowly started to break on the inside, and those words hit him like a bag of bricks.
“Ms. Sara, where were you these six months? What were you doing, and how will you care for the kids?”
“I was in Chicago at a friend’s place. I wanted to be away from everything and everyone for a while. Then I moved back to Boston…got a job as an interior designer.”
“What’s the guarantee you won’t have another breakdown and won’t abandon the kids again?” the lawyer broke Sara’s silence.
“Objection, Your Honor. This is baseless and….” Sara’s lawyer chimed in. “My client, Ms. Sara, has come for the children’s custody. Why would she leave them again?”
“Order…Order.”
“I won’t do it ever again. My children are my world. I’ll be there for them and never let anything like that happen again.”
And two hours later, the verdict was announced, and Sara was granted custody of the kids.
“….Mr. Wills, you’ll have the right to visit your children and take them with you two days a week. You’re required to pay $860 as support to your children every month. This case is now closed.”
Soon, the day arrived when the kids would go with Sara. She arrived, sad to separate the kids from their father but happy to have them back. As she was leaving with her two sons, her elder one stopped her.
“You’re just tearing us apart,” spoke Cody as he let go of Sara’s hand and bolted to Harry.
“We want both Mommy and Daddy!” added Sonny.
This was it. Sara could no longer hold herself back. She bolted in their direction and hugged them.
I Walked Out of My Own Birthday Dinner in Tears from Humiliation After My Fiancé’s ‘Surprise’
After a tough year, Morgan’s fiancé promised her birthday would be unforgettable. Dressed up and hopeful, she walks into a lavish surprise party. But the night takes a cruel turn when he stands to toast and hands her a demeaning gift.
I wasn’t one for grand celebrations. A cake and a quiet evening would’ve been perfect — especially this year.
A tense woman | Source: Midjourney
Between my struggle adapting to an increased workload after a job promotion, losing my childhood dog, Rufus, and watching Dad’s health slowly decline, I was emotionally drained.
Turning 30 felt like just another thing to get through.
So when Greyson started acting mysterious about my birthday (hiding his phone with a smirk, dropping hints like, “You’re gonna love what I’ve planned. It’s gonna blow your mind”), I dared to hope for something sweet. Maybe even healing.
A couple having a conversation | Source: Midjourney
“Wear something nice,” he told me that night. “Something you’d wear to a fancy rooftop place.”
I took my time getting ready. When I walked into the living room, Greyson looked up from his phone and whistled.
“Perfect,” he said, his eyes moving up and down. “You actually look good when you put in some effort.” He added in what I recognized as his teasing voice, “And you’re gonna need to look stunning for this.”
A man speaking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
My heart fluttered as we drove. He really did something nice, I thought. After months of feeling invisible, I finally mattered enough for him to plan something special.
We pulled up to an elegant restaurant. Jazz played softly as the hostess smiled and led us toward a private room.
The door swung open, and—
“SURPRISE!”
A woman blowing confetti into the air | Source: Pexels
The room exploded with applause from friends and family. A massive cake shaped like stacked books sat on a table (a nod to my job as a librarian). It was perfect!
I turned to Greyson, genuinely moved. He leaned in and cupped my face, speaking to me alone: “See? I always know exactly what you need.”
I nodded and smiled up at him. He did. He really did.
A couple embracing | Source: Pexels
For the first time in months, I let my guard down and allowed myself to enjoy the moment.
Laughter, toasts, candles… and Greyson showing a rare display of affection, his arm draped around my waist as we mingled.
About an hour in, Greyson stood and clinked his glass with a spoon. “Attention everyone! Time for a toast! And then, the main gift for our birthday girl.”
A glass on a table | Source: Pexels
The room quieted. I felt a flush of pleasure as everyone turned to look at us.
“I want to thank everyone for coming tonight,” he started. “As you all know, Morgan’s been through a lot lately; job stress, losing her dog, and, well… turning 30.”
He paused for effect, and laughter bubbled awkwardly through the room.
Guests at a party | Source: Midjourney
“I thought long and hard about what to get you, babe,” he continued, turning to me. “Jewelry? Nah, you’d probably lose it like that bracelet I got you last Christmas. A vacation? Too cliché. So I decided to get you something truly useful.”
He reached under the table and pulled out a gift bag tied with a pink ribbon.
The crowd “oohed” appreciatively. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
He handed it to me with a flourish. “Go ahead, open it.”
I pulled out the tissue paper, expecting maybe concert tickets or a beautiful journal. Instead, I pulled out… pink rubber gloves.
Then a sponge. Paper towels. And finally, a toilet brush.
My smile froze.
Miscellaneous cleaning supplies | Source: Pexels
“Now you’ve got NO excuse to keep leaving dishes in the sink, babe!” Greyson laughed.
Polite laughter rippled through the room. My cheeks burned, no longer from joy. I forced my smile to stay put.
“Very funny,” I managed.
“Oh, and don’t worry — I did get you a real gift,” Greyson said, as if reading my mind.
A woman looking hopefully at someone | Source: Midjourney
Relief washed over me. Of course. This was just his way of being playful before the real surprise.
He handed me an envelope. Inside was a laminated chore chart with my name on every line: dishes, vacuuming, bathroom, laundry, groceries, meal prep.
“I made this so you don’t forget what your jobs are around the house,” he explained brightly. “Because I definitely won’t.”
A man smiling while speaking | Source: Midjourney
A few strained chuckles sounded from my guests.
“Is this the real gift, or…?” I whispered.
“Oh no, I’m serious,” he shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who’s always saying you ‘thrive with structure,’ right?” Then, he leaned in close and said under his breath, “Think of it as a home promotion to go with your job promotion last month. Happy Birthday!”
A man staring intently at a woman | Source: Midjourney
I don’t remember the next few minutes clearly.
I know I smiled. Nodded. Thanked him. I remember folding the chart carefully and placing it back in the envelope. I excused myself, saying I needed some air.
I walked out to the parking lot, sat in our car, and cried for 20 minutes.
Cars in a parking lot | Source: Pexels
Just when I was debating whether to return to the party or simply vanish, someone knocked on the car window.
It was Natalie, Greyson’s cousin. I quickly wiped my eyes, but it was too late. She had seen.
She opened the passenger door and slid in beside me. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around me.
A woman getting into a car | Source: Pexels
“That was disgusting,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
I broke down again, the dam finally giving way.
“I don’t understand,” I sobbed. “Why would he do that? In front of everyone? On my birthday?”
Natalie pulled back, her expression troubled. “This wasn’t last-minute, Morgan. He’s been planning this for weeks.”
A woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
“What?”
She nodded grimly. “He called me to help arrange the surprise party three weeks ago. And he said, and I quote, ‘She thinks she’s so perfect. Let’s humble her a little.'”
My world tilted. “What are you talking about?”
“He told Jason that you’ve been getting ‘too full of yourself’ since your promotion. That you needed to be knocked down a peg.”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
I felt sick. “But I’ve barely mentioned my promotion. I’ve been so focused on Dad’s health and—”
“I know,” Natalie cut in. “But Greyson… his jokes have always had a mean edge, but he went too far this time.”
“I should go back in,” I said numbly.
A sad woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
“You don’t have to,” Natalie replied. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”
“No,” I shook my head. “I… I want to salvage what I can of this night.”
I went home that night shattered, replaying every moment of the evening. Greyson was attentive, asking if I liked my surprise party and if I was excited about my “gifts.” I smiled and nodded, something hollow growing inside me.
People lying on a bed with their feet intertwined | Source: Pexels
The next morning, I quietly packed a weekend bag, removed my engagement ring, and drove to my sister’s house two towns over.
I ignored Greyson’s frantic texts: “Where are you???” “Are you seriously mad about a joke???” “Everyone thought it was funny except you.”
Over the next few days, I replayed the last two years: his subtle jabs disguised as concern, the passive-aggressive jokes, the financial control masked as “being responsible.”
A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney
I started documenting everything: screenshots of texts, voice notes I’d saved, comments about chores, my cooking, and how I dressed.
The truth clicked into place: this wasn’t a one-time cruelty, but a painful pattern of emotional abuse. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before.
Two weeks later, while Greyson was at the gym, I returned to our apartment with Natalie and two friends.
A woman in an apartment | Source: Midjourney
We boxed up my things quickly and efficiently.
But I also left something: his own chore chart, printed and laminated, with each task assigned to “Greyson.”
I stuck a Post-it note on it that read: “No excuse now. You’ve got this, right?”
Then I blocked his number. I thought that was the end of it, but I was wrong.
A woman glancing over her shoulder | Source: Midjourney
A month later, as I was settling into my new routine, I got a DM on Facebook from Margo, Greyson’s ex.
“You probably don’t know me,” it read. “We only met once briefly, but I dated Greyson before you. I saw that your relationship status changed and your ring was gone in your new profile picture. I just wanted to say… I understand.”
We met for coffee.
The interior of a coffee shop | Source: Pexels
Margo told me about how Greyson had pulled the same public shaming trick at her college graduation party three years ago.
“He stood up in front of my entire family and announced that I only got honors because I ‘slept less and kissed up to more professors.’ Everyone laughed uncomfortably. I was humiliated.”
We talked for hours, piecing together the pattern of a man who built himself up by tearing others down.
Then we decided to do something about him.
A smirking woman | Source: Midjourney
Together, we wrote a PSA-style post about humiliation masked as humor, emotional manipulation, and the subtle forms abuse can take.
We didn’t mention names, but we spoke our truths and anyone who knew us could figure out who we were referring to.
The post spread like wildfire.
A woman scrolling on her phone | Source: Pexels
It had 13,000 shares within days. Comments flooded in: “This happened to me too.” “I thought I was alone.” “I’m still trying to find the courage to leave.”
Greyson deleted all his social media within 48 hours. I later heard that he left town to “start over.”
But I wasn’t watching. I was rebuilding.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
Leave a Reply