I did everything I could for my husband, but no matter what I did, he was never satisfied. One morning, I woke up and heard voices in the hallway — my husband’s voice, and a woman’s voice. My heart sank. “How could he do this to me?” I thought, stunned and hurt. That moment was the last straw.
I work as a project manager at a bank, and our current project was the toughest one yet. I often stayed late at the office and sometimes even worked weekends. But work was just one part of my busy life. I also had a house to run and a husband to care for — or so I thought.
Aiden, my husband, wasn’t the man I married anymore. He never helped around the house, never cooked, and barely went food shopping. It felt like I was doing everything by myself. When I tried to tell him how hard things were for me, it was like he didn’t hear a word. I’d talk about my project, how stressed I was, and he just brushed it off.
One day, I came home late—around 9 pm. The moment I stepped in, I heard him ask, “Where have you been?”
“I told you I’d be late. Work’s been crazy,” I said, tired.
“You didn’t tell me!” he snapped.
“Yes, I did! More than once!” I replied, frustrated.
But he cut me off, eyes glued to the soccer game on TV. “Whatever, Claire. I’m hungry. Will you make dinner or not?”
I checked the fridge. “There isn’t much food left. We need to go shopping.”
He didn’t even look away from the screen. “I’ll wait here. You can go.”
So, I grabbed my wallet and left. On the way to the store, I was lost in my thoughts. Aiden used to be kind, gentle, loving. Now, he was demanding and never happy. I felt like I was walking on eggshells around him.
When I came back, he barked, “Why did you take so long? I’m starving!”
I rushed into the kitchen, cooked as fast as I could, and served the food. He ate without saying a word, then went back to watching TV, leaving me to clean the messy kitchen alone. I thought, Can’t he even wash his own plate? But I was too tired to argue, so I did it myself and went straight to bed.
The next morning, I woke up feeling awful — my nose stuffed, throat sore, and head pounding. Before I even had a chance to say hello, I heard Aiden’s voice.
“You’re late… Where’s breakfast?” he demanded.
Not even a “good morning.” I forced myself to shower and went to the kitchen to prepare something. But as I finished, Aiden was already ready to leave.
“Never mind, you’re too slow. I’m gonna be late,” he said, slamming the door behind him.
I was so sick I had to call in. I made some tea with honey and lemon and went back to bed, trying to think when things started to fall apart. Aiden wasn’t always like this…
But then I realized I couldn’t remember the last time he helped me or even said something kind. He always found a way to blame me, even when he was clearly wrong. That thought crushed me, and I cried myself to sleep.
Then, I woke up to voices in the hall. Could it be him? Why was he home so early? Maybe he forgot something?
I heard Aiden whisper, “Get out, I think she’s home… It won’t work today.”
Curious and scared, I quietly opened the door. I froze. There was a beautiful brunette standing in the hallway.
“Dear,” she said sweetly, “when will we meet then?”
Aiden answered, “On the weekend. I’ll pick a fight with her, and then we can go on a trip for two days.”
She giggled and threw her arms around him.
“Shhh, be quiet,” he warned.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. They didn’t even bother to hide it! My heart burned with anger and betrayal. I went back to my room, feeling like I was trapped in a nightmare. But something inside me shifted.
What am I doing? Why am I letting this happen? This was the man who was supposed to love me — but he didn’t.
As soon as Aiden left the house, I felt a strange calm wash over me. I called a locksmith and changed the locks. This apartment was mine.
Then, I started packing. I gathered all his things—clothes, books, gadgets—everything that belonged to him. I didn’t want any reminder of him or his presence here. I wanted him out of my life, completely.
I spent nearly the whole day packing. When Aiden came home, I heard the doorbell ring.
“What happened to the lock? Why don’t my keys work?” he shouted through the door.
“You didn’t even greet me!” I said coldly.
He came inside, looking confused. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing at the packed boxes.
“This is where you leave, Aiden. I’m done with you,” I said firmly. “Take your stuff and go to hell—with your mistress. I’m filing for divorce.”
He stared at me like I was a stranger. “Who is she? Where’s the quiet wife who did everything I wanted?”
I looked him straight in the eye. “I know everything. You don’t love me. You used me. Now go away and don’t come back. I won’t forgive you.”
He was shocked. Then, he said, “Fine. I’m leaving, but you’ll regret this.” He called a cab, took his bags, and left.
The next day, I filed for divorce. A month later, it was official. Aiden couldn’t believe it. He tried to talk to me a few times, but I refused.
Since that day, I’m a new woman. I take care of myself now. I love myself. No one disrespects me anymore. I even started therapy to heal the wounds from that toxic relationship.
What can we learn from this story?
It’s never too late to leave a toxic relationship. Claire took time to see the truth, but when she saw Aiden cheating, she knew she had to act.
Always put yourself first. Claire had put her marriage and husband above her own needs for too long. Now, she puts herself first — and she’s stronger because of it.