It was a bright and crisp October morning, the day Harry had been waiting for. His big presentation was finally here, the one he had worked tirelessly on for six months. If all went well, he would secure the promotion he had been dreaming about, along with a six-figure paycheck. Nothing could ruin this day for him.
As the clock struck eight, Harry rushed into the dining room, his eyes glued to his phone, barely acknowledging his wife, Sara, or their two little sons, Cody and Sonny.
“Morning, honey,” Sara greeted him warmly.
“Good morning, Daddy!” the boys chorused.
But Harry didn’t respond. He grabbed a piece of toast absentmindedly and hurried back to his room to get ready.
A few minutes later, his voice boomed from the bedroom. “Sara, where’s my white shirt?”
“I just put it in the wash with all the whites,” she called back.
Harry stormed out of the room, frustration written all over his face. “What do you mean you just put it for a wash? I asked you three days ago! You know that’s my lucky shirt! What am I going to wear now?”
Sara sighed, trying to keep calm. “Harry, stop yelling. I didn’t have enough white clothes to run a full load until today. You have other shirts. It’s really not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?! Do you even understand how important today is for me?” he snapped. “Why can’t you ever do anything right? All you do is sit at home all day doing nothing! If you weren’t so busy gossiping with that friend of yours downstairs, maybe you’d actually get something done!”
Sara’s face turned red. “I take care of this house, our kids, and everything in between. That’s not ‘nothing,’ Harry. You need to stop talking to me like this.”
But Harry wasn’t listening. “You can never be a good wife if you can’t even do one simple thing for me!”
He grabbed his briefcase, threw on a different suit, and stormed out of the house.
At the office, Harry’s mind was consumed by his work. His phone kept buzzing, and each time, he half-expected Sara to call and apologize like she always did after their arguments. But no calls came.
After his presentation, his boss, Mr. Adams, clapped him on the back. “That was incredible, Harry. Congratulations! The promotion is yours.”
Harry was elated. On his way home, he even stopped to buy Sara her favorite white roses, thinking about how they would make up over dinner. But when he entered their apartment, something felt wrong.
“Honey, I’m home!” he called out.
Silence.
Harry frowned and walked from room to room. No Sara. No kids. His stomach tightened as he noticed a note on the coffee table. He picked it up with shaky hands.
“I want a divorce.”
Harry’s heart pounded. “This has to be a joke.”
He grabbed his phone and called Sara, but there was no answer. Panicked, he dialed her sister, Zara.
“Hey, is Sara with you? I just got home, and she’s not here…”
“She’s in the hospital, Harry,” Zara said flatly.
“The hospital?! What happened?!”
The line went silent.
Harry didn’t waste a second. He bolted out of the apartment, flagged down a taxi, and rushed to the hospital.
“Where is she?!” he demanded the moment he saw Zara.
Zara crossed her arms. “Really, Harry? You’re asking if she’s okay? She’s here because of you. You pushed her too far.”
Harry ignored her and rushed to the doctor. “Is my wife alright? Can I see her?”
“She had a mild anxiety attack. She’s stable now, but she needs rest. You can see her for ten minutes.”
Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped into the hospital room. Sara lay in bed, pale but awake. He tried to smile. “Hey, listen, I know I messed up, and I’m—”
Sara cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m done, Harry. Divorce is the only thing I want.”
Harry froze. “Wha-What? Sara, you don’t mean that.”
“I do,” she said firmly. “I sacrificed my dreams for you. I gave up a career in interior design, stayed home to raise our kids, and for what? Just to be treated like I do nothing? I refuse to let you make me feel worthless anymore.”
“Sara, please,” Harry begged. “I know I made mistakes, but let’s fix this together.”
“No,” she said coldly. “I’ve already lost myself once. I won’t let it happen again.”
For the next five months, Harry struggled. He lost his job after failing to balance work and parenting. He burned breakfast, forgot school pickups, and made a mess of laundry. Everything Sara had managed effortlessly now felt impossible.
Then, out of nowhere, Sara called him. “Can we meet at our old café at five?”
Harry’s heart leaped with hope. Maybe she had changed her mind.
When he arrived, she looked different—stronger, more confident.
“I got a job here in Boston,” she said. “And I came back for the kids. I want custody.”
Harry’s blood ran cold. “Custody? Are you kidding me? You left us! You don’t get to waltz back in and take them!”
“They’re my children too, Harry. I love them. And I won’t let you keep them from me.”
The battle ended in court. Sara won custody, and Harry was left devastated.
On the day the kids were moving out, Harry packed their things, blinking back tears.
“Daddy, are we never going to be a family again?” Cody whispered.
Harry hugged him tight. “I don’t know, buddy.”
Just then, Sara turned back, hesitation in her eyes. The boys clung to their father.
Something shifted in her expression.
“Come with us,” she whispered.
Harry looked at her, startled. “What?”
“We can’t undo the past, but maybe…we can find our way back.”
Tears welled in Harry’s eyes as he pulled his family close. Maybe, just maybe, love wasn’t entirely lost.
Lesson: Cherish and respect your loved ones before it’s too late. Sara and Harry loved each other but let misunderstandings drive them apart. Communication and appreciation could have saved them from all the pain they endured.
