**”Id Had Enough Over a ChickenAnd I Dont Regret a Thing”**
That day, Emily was exhausted. Shed spent the morning tidying the lounge, hanging laundry, picking up the toddlers toys, and scrubbing the windows. Finally, she peeked into the oventhe roast chicken with golden potatoes was nearly perfect, filling the kitchen with a smell so good it made her head spin.
“Ten more minutes,” she muttered, setting the timer before rushing to the bathroom to clean the grout. Everything was running smoothly until the front door slammed.
“The kids mustve come home,” she thought. But standing in the doorway wasnt Oliver or Sophieit was her husband, James, who was supposed to be “at the garage” all morning.
“Ah, that smells brilliant!” 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 flew into the hallway, and laughter erupted. Hearing an argument, Emily stepped out, forgetting the timer.
“Whats going on?” she asked, still wearing rubber gloves.
“I want a drumstick!” Sophie, ten, shouted.
“Me too!” Oliver, eight, chimed in.
“There are two, arent there?” Emily asked, puzzled.
“No! Theres only one left!” Sophie stamped her foot.
Emily walked to the table. Sure enough, half the chicken was gone. Only the breast and a few lonely potatoes remained.
“Wheres your dad?”
“He left. Took half the chicken and went,” Oliver grumbled.
Emily grabbed her phone and called Jamesno answer. Snatching her keys, she stormed out. Her anger boiled over: 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, 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 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 gasped. “Youre not just selfish, Jamesyoure a thief. A thief who steals from his own kids to stuff your drunk mates!”
“Stop making a scene, Em,” he growled, humiliated. “It was just this once.”
“Once? What about the chocolates? The whisky my dad gave you that vanished in a day? The barbecue where the kids got only burnt bits while you gorged on the best cuts?”
Emily turned on her heel and left.
That evening, when he returned, she stood by the window.
“You should see yourself,” James sneered. “‘Divorce over a chicken.’ You belong on telly.”
“I want a divorce,” she said coldly. “You dont even get it. Its not about the chicken. Its about your rudeness, your greed, and the fact that you only think of yourself.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” he mocked.
“To your mums. The one who taught you anything good is yours. Let her share with you now.”
James left, convinced Emily was bluffing. But the next day, she filed the papers. He slept at his mothers.
Two weeks later, the phone rang.
“You were right,” sighed her ex-mother-in-law. “He eats everything here. I buy biscuits, have onethe rest vanish by nightfall. I thought you were exaggerating. But yesterday, he took the last drop from the kettle without asking.”
“Want me to take him back?” Emily asked, surprised.
“No just needed to complain, I suppose.”
“Good luck, then. As for meIve moved on from that glutton. And you know what? I can finally breathe again.”
**The lesson here? Love makes us tolerate much. But when selfishness sits at the table, it chokes the soul of the home.**
