**Because of a chicken, I kicked my husband out. And I dont regret it.**
That morning, Élodie was exhausted. Shed spent the entire day tidying the living room, hanging the laundry, picking up the little ones toys, and scrubbing the tiles. Finally, she glanced at the oven: the roast chicken with its golden potatoes looked perfect, filling the kitchen with a scent that was almost dizzying.
Just ten more minutes, she muttered, setting the timer before slipping into the bathroom to clean the grout. Everything was running smoothly until the front door slammed.
The kids must be home, she thought. But standing on the threshold werent Lucas or Camille; it was her husband Julien, who was supposed to have been in the garage since early morning.
Wow, that smells amazing! he exclaimed, rubbing his hands. Your roast chicken always wins!
Call the kids for dinner, Élodie replied, turning back to the sink.
A minute later, bare little feet pounded the floor, sneakers flew into the hallway, and laughter erupted. Hearing a squabble, Élodie stepped out, forgetting the timer.
Whats happening? she asked, her hands still gloved.
I want a thigh! shouted Camille, ten.
Me too! added Lucas, eight.
There are two, right? Élodie asked, puzzled.
No! Theres only one left! Camille protested, stomping her foot.
Élodie walked over to the table. Indeed, half of the chicken had vanished; only the breasts and a few stray potatoes remained.
And Dad? she inquired.
He left. He took half the chicken and walked away, Lucas grumbled.
Élodie grabbed her phone and dialed Julienno answer. She snatched her keys and stormed out, fury bubbling over. Again! He had taken the best portion, not for himself but for his friends. This wasnt selfishness anymore; it was betrayal.
Near the village square, on a bench, Julien sat with his pals, beers in hand, the chicken perched on his lap. They laughed, ate, and licked their fingers.
Isnt it a bit heavy? she snapped, eyes blazing.
Come home, well talk later, Julien replied, embarrassed in front of his mates.
No, we talk now! You stole what I prepared for our children! Arent you ashamed? Its not enough that you keep the prime cuts for yourself; now you feed your buddies with what isnt yours?
Leave before I lose my temper, he said, gripping her arm.
What are you doing? Élodie shouted. Youre not just selfish, Julien, youre a thief. A thief who pilfers his own kids food to fatten his drunk friends!
Cut the drama, Élo, he muttered, humiliated before his crowd. It was just once.
Once? And the fruit? And my mothers caviar that you devoured in a day? And the barbecue where you left the kids with burnt scraps while you gorged on the best pieces?
Élodie turned on her heel and walked away.
That evening, when he returned, she stood at the window.
You should see yourself, Julien sneered. Divorce over a chicken. We should put you on a talk show.
Im filing for divorce, she said coldly. You dont even get it. Its not the chicken. Its your rudeness, your greed, and the fact that you only think of yourself.
Where am I supposed to go? he mocked. Youre crossing the line.
At your mothers. The one who taught you that everything good belongs to you. Let her share it with you now.
Julien left, convinced Élodie was bluffing. The next day she submitted the paperwork. He ended up sleeping at his mothers house.
Two weeks later, the phone rang.
You were right, sighed his exmotherinlaw. He devours everything at my place. I buy chocolates, I take oneeverything else vanishes by night. I thought you were exaggerating, but yesterday he even took the last drop of water from the kettle without asking.
You want me to take him back? Élodie asked, surprised.
No just vent, I guess.
Good luck then. Ive turned the page on that glutton. And guess what I finally breathe freely.
**Moral: Love lets us tolerate many things, but when selfishness dominates the table, it suffocates the spirit of the home.**
