**”I Kicked My Husband Out Over a Chicken and I Dont Regret a Thing”**
That day, Emily was at her wits’ end. Shed spent the whole morning tidying the lounge, hanging laundry, picking up the kids toys, and scrubbing the windows. Finally, she peeked in the oventhe roast chicken with golden potatoes was browning perfectly, filling the kitchen with a dizzyingly delicious smell.
“Ten more minutes,” she muttered, setting the timer before dashing to the bathroom to clean the grout. Everything was running smoothly until the front door slammed.
“The kids must be home,” she thought. But on the doorstep stood neither Oliver nor Charlottejust her husband, James, who was supposed to have been “at the garage” all morning.
“Oh, that smells heavenly!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. “Your roast chicken always wins!”
“Call the kids for dinner,” Emily replied, turning back to the sink.
A minute later, little bare feet thudded across the floor, trainers were flung in the hall, and laughter erupted. Hearing an argument, Emily stepped out, forgetting the timer.
“Whats going on?” she asked, gloves still on her hands.
“I want a drumstick!” shouted ten-year-old Charlotte.
“Me too!” piped up Oliver, eight.
“There are two, arent there?” Emily asked, confused.
“No! Theres only one left!” Charlotte stomped her foot.
Emily walked to the table. Sure enough, half the chicken was gone. Just the breast and a few lonely potatoes remained.
“Wheres your dad?”
“He left. He took half the chicken and just left,” Oliver grumbled.
Emily grabbed her phone and rang Jamesno answer. She snatched the keys and stormed out, fury boiling inside her. Again! Hed helped himself to the best bits. But this time, it wasnt even for himselfit was for his mates. This wasnt just selfishness; it was betrayal.
Near the village green, James sat on a bench with his friends, beers in hand, the chicken on his lap. They laughed, ate, licked their fingers.
“Not too heavy for you, is it?” she snapped, eyes blazing.
“Go home, well talk later,” James muttered, embarrassed in front of his mates.
“No, well talk now! You stole what I made for our children! Have you no shame? Its bad enough you always keep the best bits for yourselfnow youre feeding your mates with what isnt yours?”
“Piss off before I lose my temper,” he shot back, grabbing her arm.
“What are you doing?” Emily recoiled. “Youre not just selfish, Jamesyoure a thief. A thief who steals food from his own kids to stuff your drunk mates!”
“Pack it in, Em,” he growled, humiliated. “It was just this once.”
“Once? What about the fruit? The smoked salmon my mum sent that you polished off in a day? The barbecue where the kids got the burnt ends while you hogged the best cuts?”
Emily turned on her heel and marched home.
That evening, when he returned, she stood by the window.
“You should see yourself,” James sneered. “‘Divorce over a chicken.’ You belong on a telly show.”
“I want a divorce,” she said coldly. “You still dont get it. Its not about the chicken. Its about your rudeness, your greed, and the fact you only ever think of yourself.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” he mocked.
“Your mums. The one who taught you the best bits belong to you. Let her share with you now.”
James left, convinced Emily was bluffing. But the next day, she filed the papers. He slept at his mums.
Two weeks later, the phone rang.
“You were right,” sighed her ex-mother-in-law. “He eats everything here. I buy chocolates, have onethe rest vanish by evening. I thought you were exaggerating. But yesterday, he even took the last drop from the kettle without asking.”
“You want me to take him back?” Emily asked, surprised.
“No just needed to complain, I suppose.”
“Good luck, then. Ive moved on from that greedy man. And you know what? Im finally breathing easy.”
**Lesson of the day: Love makes us tolerate much. But when selfishness rules the dinner table, it chokes the soul of the home.**
