When our kids got sick and we had to cancel our family vacation, my husband didn’t think twice before ditching us and going alone. What he didn’t know was that his selfish little getaway would cost him more than he could ever imagine.
I stumbled through the front door at 8:30 p.m., my entire body aching after an exhausting twelve-hour shift at the hospital. The moment I stepped inside, the noise hit me like a hurricane—cartoons blaring from the TV, Zach and Penny laughing and shrieking as they ran in circles around the living room.
And there was Garrett. Stretched out on the couch like he hadn’t moved all day, beer in one hand, phone in the other.
“Hey, babe,” he called, not even glancing up. “Long day?”
I took a deep breath, forcing myself not to snap. “You could say that. The ER was packed. Nonstop chaos.”
I looked around at the mess—toy cars, dolls, snack wrappers scattered across the floor. I could barely see the carpet. My stomach sank. “Did you feed the kids dinner?”
Garrett shrugged. “They had some chips earlier. I figured you’d want to cook when you got home.”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten, trying to hold onto my patience. This was how it had been for the last few years. I worked long hours, came home drained, and still had to pick up the pieces while Garrett sat around doing the bare minimum.
“Mommy, I’m starving!” Penny latched onto my leg, her blonde pigtails bouncing.
I forced a smile. “I’ll make you something right now, sweetheart.”
As I heated up leftovers, I thought about our upcoming beach vacation. Maybe, just maybe, getting away would remind Garrett of what really mattered. Maybe it would remind him of us.
“So,” I said, placing plates in front of the kids, “have you packed yet?”
Garrett didn’t look up from his phone. “Nah, I’ll throw some stuff in a bag tomorrow. No big deal.”
I sighed. “We leave in two days, Garrett. A little planning wouldn’t kill you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Relax, it’ll be fine. You worry too much.”
I bit my tongue. No point in arguing. Not now.
The night before our flight, I woke up to the sound of gagging. My heart pounded as I rushed to the bathroom and found Zach hunched over the toilet, pale and sweating.
Within an hour, Penny was just as sick.
By morning, I knew there was no way we could go on this trip. Over breakfast, I gently broke the news to Garrett. “We have to postpone the trip. The kids have a nasty stomach bug.”
He froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “What? No way. I’ve been looking forward to this for months!”
“I know, but they can’t travel like this. We can reschedule.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m still going.”
I stared at him, sure I had misheard. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said, his voice firm. “I need this break, Nora. Work’s been insane.”
I scoffed. “And my job isn’t? I’m a nurse, Garrett! I deal with real emergencies every single day.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not a competition. Look, you stay with the kids. I’ll go enjoy the beach for both of us.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. As he packed his suitcase, ignoring Zach and Penny’s miserable little faces, something inside me cracked. When the front door slammed behind him, I stood in the silence, shaking with rage.
The next week was hell. I juggled caring for two sick kids while working long shifts. And every time my phone buzzed with another smug selfie from Garrett—him lounging in a beach chair, sipping cocktails—I felt my blood boil.
On Friday, another text came in: a photo of Garrett grinning, drink in hand, with the caption, “Living the dream!”
That was it.
I was done.
And I had a plan.
I marched into the garage and surveyed Garrett’s “man cave.” His expensive fishing gear. The boat he’d barely used. The ridiculous pile of junk he had hoarded over the years.
I smiled.
Within hours, I had taken photos of everything and listed them for sale online. And within days? His precious collection was gone. In its place, a thick wad of cash sat safely in my purse.
“Guess what, kids?” I announced over breakfast, barely able to contain my excitement.
Zach’s eyes lit up. “What?”
“We’re going on our own special vacation!”
Penny clapped her hands. “Yay! Where?”
I grinned. “It’s a surprise. But I promise it’ll be better than Dad’s boring old beach.”
A few days later, we arrived at a beautiful family resort. Zach and Penny could hardly sit still, bouncing with excitement. As I watched them splash in the pool, my heart felt lighter than it had in years.
“Mom, look!” Zach called, attempting a cannonball. I cheered as he made a massive splash.
“You’re a natural with them,” a voice said behind me. I turned to see a woman about my age smiling warmly. “Single mom?”
I hesitated. “It’s… complicated.”
She nodded knowingly. “I’ve been there. I’m Tessa, by the way.”
We hit it off instantly, swapping stories about kids, work, and relationships. It felt good to talk to someone who truly understood.
“So what’s your story?” Tessa asked, sipping her lemonade.
I took a deep breath. “My husband ditched us for a solo vacation when the kids got sick. I had enough. So… I sold all his toys and used the money to bring my kids here.”
Tessa nearly choked on her drink. “Oh my God. That is brilliant! How did he take it?”
I smirked. “He doesn’t know yet.”
As if on cue, my phone rang. Garrett’s name flashed on the screen.
“Well,” I sighed, “I guess I’m about to find out.”
I answered. “Hello?”
“WHERE THE HELL IS ALL MY STUFF?” Garrett screamed.
I leaned against a palm tree, feeling strangely calm. “Oh, you noticed? I thought you’d be too busy ‘living the dream’ to care.”
“Don’t play games, Nora. What did you do?”
“I sold it.”
A stunned silence. Then, “You what?!”
“You heard me,” I said coolly. “Your boat, your fishing gear, everything. Gone.”
“You had no right—”
“And you had no right to abandon your sick kids for a vacation,” I snapped. “I’m done, Garrett. Done being taken for granted.”
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You’ll regret this, Nora.”
I smiled. “We’ll see about that.” Then I hung up.
Tessa raised her glass. “Damn. That was badass.”
I laughed, feeling truly free for the first time in years. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but as I watched my kids play under the golden sunset, I knew one thing for sure:
We were going to be just fine.
