I Thought I Was Taking Back My Life. Instead, I Threw It All Away.
Three weeks ago, I gathered my thingsnot in secret, not quietly, but after standing before fifty of my husbands relatives and announcing I was leaving him for a colleague.
It wasnt a rash choice. My husband had been out of work for eight monthsnot laid off, but sacked for turning up drunk at the warehouse again. He swore hed find another job, yet spent his days glued to his console while I worked double shifts at the pub, barely covering rent and the weekly shop.
The barman started six months back. Clever. Driven. Actually owned his own car instead of borrowing mine. We chatted during quiet hours, then texted, then met after closing time.
One evening, in his flat, he looked at me and said, You ought to be with someone who can take care of you, not some layabout wasting his days on games.
I believed him.
The family gathering was at my mother-in-laws in Surrey. The garden brimmed with relatives, laughter, and fold-out chairs. My husband bragged about some online tournament hed won. When his cousin asked about work, he lied. Nearly sorted. Got a few leads.
Id had enough.
He hasnt sent a single application in three months, I said, rising. Im done pretending. Im leaving him for a man who actually works instead of sponging off me.
Silence fell. My husband went pale.
Whatre you on about? he asked.
I didnt falter.
Im saying youre a waster who cant even pay for the shopping. Ive found someone bettersomeone with ambition.
His sister gasped. His aunt dropped her plate. My mother-in-law stormed over and struck me across the cheek.
Out. Now.
Gladly, I shot back, my face stinging. Enjoy coddling your useless son.
I left with only my handbag. That night, I moved in with the barman, boasting online about my fresh start with a proper man.
It lasted two months.
Turns out, he was also seeing the new hostessand one of the waitresses. I caught them in his bed when I came home early from my shift.
You knew I wasnt the settling type, he said, as if I were daft for expecting loyalty.
I had nowhere to turn. My husband had changed the locks. My family said Id made my choice. The barman kept my deposit on the flat wed meant to share.
Now I work at a roadside burger van. Minimum wage. No tips.
My husband landed a job with his mates building firm last month. Just posted a photo of his new van.
The mark from the slap faded, but sometimes I still feel itthat moment I thought I was so clever, so righteous, burning every bridge for a man who saw me as just another distraction.
He still pulls pints at the old pub. Already has a new girlfriend. I flip burgers and wonder if this is my comeuppance.
But standing there, shaming my husband in front of everyonewas that bravery, or just spite?
