**Diary Entry 12th October**
I thought I was taking control of my life. Instead, I set it all ablaze.
Three weeks ago, I packed my bagsnot in secret, not quietly. I did it after standing in front of fifty people, my husbands entire family, and declaring I was leaving him for my colleague.
It wasnt some rash choice. My husband had been jobless for eight monthsnot made redundant, but sacked. Again. For turning up drunk to his warehouse shift. He swore hed find work, but instead, he spent his days glued to his console while I pulled double shifts at the pub, barely covering rent and the weekly shop.
Tom, my colleague, started as a barman six months ago. Clever. Driven. Actually owned his own car instead of constantly borrowing mine. Wed chat during quiet hours, then text, then meet after closing.
One evening at his flat, he looked at me and said, You deserve someone who can actually look after you. Not some waster glued to a screen all day.
I believed him.
The family gathering was at my mother-in-laws house in Manchester. Her garden was packed with relatives, laughter, and cheap folding chairs. My husband was bragging about some online game hed won, and when his cousin asked about his job hunt, he just shrugged.
Nearly sorted, he lied. Got a few things lined up.
Thats when I snapped.
Actually, he hasnt sent a single CV in months, I said, standing. Im done pretending. Im leaving him for someone who actually works instead of sponging off me.
The garden fell silent. My husband went pale.
What the hell are you on about? he asked.
I didnt hold back.
Im talking about how youre a useless layabout who cant even pay for groceries. Im talking about how Ive found a proper mansomeone with ambition.
His sister gasped. His aunt dropped her plate. His mother stormed across the lawn and slapped me square across the face.
Get out. Now.
With pleasure, I shot back, my cheek stinging. Enjoy coddling your failure of a son.
I walked out with just my handbag. That night, I moved in with Tom. Posted online about my fresh start with a real man.
It lasted eight weeks.
Turns out Tom was also seeing the new waitress. And one of the kitchen staff. I walked in on them in his bed after finishing a shift early.
You knew I wasnt the settling type, he said, like I was daft for expecting loyalty.
I had nowhere to go. My husband had changed the locks. My own family said Id made my choice. Tom kept my deposit on the flat we were meant to share.
Now Im working at a burger van off the M6. Minimum wage, no tips.
My husband landed a job with his mates building firm last month. Yesterday, he posted a photo of his new van.
The slap mark faded, but I still feel itthat moment I thought I was so clever, so righteous. When I torched every bridge for a man who saw me as just another name on his list.
Hes still pulling pints at the old pub. Already has a new girlfriend. I flip greasy burgers and wonder if this is karma.
But standing there, shaming my husband in front of everyonewas that strength? Or just cruelty? Maybe some lessons come with a sting you dont forget.
