I Thought I Was Taking Control of My LifeInstead, I Lit the Match
Three weeks ago, I packed my bags. Not discreetly, not in silence. I did it after standing before fifty peoplemy husbands entire familyand declaring I was leaving him for my colleague.
This wasnt a rash choice. My husband hadnt worked in eight months. Not made redundantsacked. For turning up drunk at his warehouse job. Again. He swore hed find something, but his days were spent gaming while I worked double shifts at the pub, barely covering rent and food.
My colleague started as a barman six months ago. Clever. Driven. Actually owned his car instead of borrowing mine. We chatted during quiet shifts. Then messaged. Then met after work.
One evening, in 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 home. Her garden buzzed with relatives, laughter, and folding chairs. My husband was boasting about some online tournament hed won. His cousin asked about his job hunt.
Nearly there, he lied. Got a few good prospects.
I lost it.
Actually, he hasnt sent a single application in three months, I said, standing. Im done covering for him. Im leaving him for someone with a proper job and ambition.
The garden fell silent. My husband went pale.
Whatre you on about? he asked.
I didnt hold back.
Im talking about how youre a freeloader who cant even pay for food. Im talking about how Ive found someone bettersomeone who earns instead of sponging off me.
His sister gasped. His aunt dropped her plate. My mother-in-law stormed over and slapped me hard across the face.
Get out of my house. Now.
Happy to, I shot back, my cheek stinging. Enjoy coddling your useless son.
I left with just my handbag. That night, I moved in with the barman. Posted online about my fresh start with a real man.
It lasted two months.
Turns out, my colleague was also seeing the new waitress. And one of the kitchen staff. I walked in on them together in his bed when I finished early.
You knew we werent exclusive, he said, as if I was daft for expecting more.
I had nowhere left. My husband had changed the locks. My family said Id made my choice. The barman kept the deposit on the flat wed planned to share.
Now I work at a roadside burger van. Minimum wage. No tips.
My husband landed a job at his mates building firm last month. Posted pics of his new van yesterday.
The slap mark faded, but I still feel it sometimes. That moment I thought I was so clever, so above it all. When I torched every bridge for someone who saw me as just another fling.
He still works at our old pub. Already has a new girlfriend. I flip burgers and wonder if this is what I had coming.
But standing there, shaming my husband in front of everyonewas it really necessary? Or was I just being cruel?
