Needed to Stay With My Sick Mother Instead of Going on a Vacation. So Husband Took His Coworker...

needed to stay with my sick mother instead of going on a vacation, so my husband took his coworker with him on a trip at our Dram Resort. He ignored all my calls when my mom died. I've been married to my husband, Nick, for four wonderful years.

He is a great husband, and our relationship has always been centered around just the two of us. Since very early on, we made a mutual decision to not have any children. It was a choice we were both completely comfortable with, and it's something we've never second-guessed.

Our life together has been fulfilling in so many ways, and we enjoy the freedom and flexibility that comes with not having the responsibilities of raising kids. Every year when our wedding anniversary comes around, I like to plan something special to celebrate our time together. It's become a tradition that we both look forward to, a time when we can escape from the usual routines of life and just focus on each other.

I've always loved surprising Nick with little getaways or thoughtful experiences that reflect how much I value our relationship. This year, for our approaching fifth anniversary, I decided to go big and book an all-inclusive resort for us for a week. We had always wanted to go to this resort in our city since we found out about it.

I wanted to treat us to something indulgent: a full week of relaxation and pampering where we didn't have to think about anything but focusing only on enjoying each other's company. We've both been working hard, and this felt like the perfect way to recharge and reconnect. I talked with Nick before booking this stay, and he seemed pretty excited about getting some time off from work.

Unfortunately, my mother wasn't doing well during this time. Almost 15 years ago, she was in a serious car accident that left her paralyzed from the waist down. It completely changed her life and ours in ways we could never have anticipated.

I was still living with my parents at the time; hence, I became very involved in taking care of her. My dad was the sole provider for our family, so he had to work long shifts or even overtime to pay for Mom's medical bills. Despite coming back home tired, he would still help out my mom in any way he could.

It wasn't easy for any of us, but we made it work as a family. However, things became more challenging when I left for college. My dad had to shoulder the responsibility of caring for her alone, and I could tell it was taking a toll on him.

Being away from home during that time made me feel incredibly guilty. I wanted to help, but being at college meant I couldn't physically be there for either of them. Every time I visited, I could see the strain on my dad's face.

Though he never complained, he loved my mom and was dedicated to her, but caregiving is exhausting, and I knew he needed support. This is why when I got my first job after graduating, one of the first things I did was offer to hire a full-time caregiver to help take some of the burden off of my dad. I knew it wouldn't be the same as me or my dad being there for her, but I thought it would at least give him a break and some time to rest and take care of himself.

My dad was so grateful when I made the offer. I could see the relief in his eyes, and it made me happy to be able to do something meaningful for both of my parents. It felt good to know that they would have the support they needed and that my dad wouldn't be alone in managing everything.

However, my mother's health was declining. She had started having respiratory issues, which made it difficult for her to breathe without supplemental oxygen. Over the years, she had lost much of the muscle tone in her upper body, making it nearly impossible for her to move her wheelchair independently anymore.

It was not just her physical health that was deteriorating; her emotional state had been in steep decline as well. The vibrant, active woman I grew up with, who used to take charge of everything and everyone, was battling deep depression and overwhelming frustration over her lack of mobility. One night, my dad called me in a panic.

He said my mom had started waking up in the middle of her sleep, screaming from terrifying nightmares. She kept telling him that she was going to die soon. Hearing those words from him made my heart nearly stop.

I had known she wasn't doing well, but the thought of her feeling so desperate and terrified was more than I could bear. It had been a month or two since my last visit to them, mostly because of my demanding work schedule, so without a second thought, I told my dad I would drive over to their place in the morning. I knew they needed me, and there was nothing more important at that moment than being there for both of them.

However, when I told my husband about my plans to visit my parents for a few days to take care of my mom, he didn't like that. Nick wasn't really a family guy. Unlike me, who was blessed with a warm and supportive family, my husband, Nick, had a much more difficult upbringing.

My husband grew up in a household where his parents clearly favored his sister, who was the golden child in their eyes. Nick, on the other hand, was often overlooked and neglected. It was heartbreaking to learn that he had spent much of his life feeling ignored by the people who were supposed to care for him the most.

Over time, he had learned to live with this reality, but the scars it left behind were deep. Left were deep. Nick's family lived quite a distance away, and they seldom made any efforts to visit us.

His family never had any get-togethers, even on Christmas. This physical and emotional distance meant that Nick wasn't close to his family; in fact, he had been estranged from his sister for years, and their relationship was almost non-existent. When Nick and I started dating, I was very open with him about the strong bond I had with my own family.

I wanted him to understand how important they were to me and that visiting them was something I did as frequently as I could, despite the long three to four-hour drive it required. In the beginning, Nick seemed to be okay with it; he would even accompany me on those trips, and it felt like he was becoming a part of my family too. My dad, in particular, really took a liking to Nick and treated him like a son.

They shared a love for football, and it was a joy to see them bond over a game, with a beer in hand, laughing and chatting as if they had known each other for years. But as time went on, something shifted. Nick began to withdraw from these visits, and eventually, he stopped coming with me altogether.

It was pretty evident that he had grown tired of spending time with my parents over time, since he was not used to being with family frequently. Though he never explicitly said so, it became more and more difficult for me to get him to join me on those trips, and I found myself making excuses for his absence. My dad, who had genuinely enjoyed Nick's company, would sometimes ask about him each time I visited him, his voice tinged with a bit of concern.

I didn't have the heart to tell my dad the truth—that Nick didn't want to spend time with him and Mom anymore—so I would lie and say that Nick was caught up with some urgent work or that he had something important to take care of. I knew that Nick's past experiences had shaped him in ways I couldn't fully understand, so I tried my best to be understanding. I had reduced my visits to my parents a lot as a result, since Nick never liked it.

However, this time was different; my parents needed me. Hence, I packed my bags to visit them. When I arrived at their home, I was filled with a mix of emotions—happiness to be with them, but also a sense of worry that had been lingering in the back of my mind.

My dad had mentioned over the phone that my mom wasn't doing well, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of seeing her in person. As soon as I saw her, my heart sank. She looked so much thinner than I remembered, almost frail, and it was clear that her health had deteriorated more than my dad had let on.

Her once vibrant hair had started falling out, and she seemed like a shadow of the strong, lively woman who had raised me. It was painful to see her like this, but I pushed those feelings aside because I knew what I needed to do. I needed to be there for her and for my dad, who had been doing his best to take care of her on his own.

Over the next few days, I took on the responsibility of cooking for everyone, giving my dad a much-needed break. I knew how much he loved the meals my mom used to make for him, so I made sure to prepare some of his favorites, hoping to bring a bit of comfort and normalcy back into our home. Seeing the contentment on my dad's face as he enjoyed those meals meant everything to me.

I tried to spend as much time with both of them as I could, whether it was sitting by my mom's side, talking to her softly, or sharing a quiet moment with my dad after dinner. I knew that just being there made a difference, even if I couldn't change the situation. At night, after everything had settled down, I would call Nick to let him know how things were going.

I told him about my mom's condition, how worried I was about her, and how my dad was holding up. However, Nick didn't really care much or show any sympathy. Whenever I would share updates about my mom's worsening condition, he would often tell me that I was stressing him out about my family problems and that he needed to relax after work.

I tried to convince myself that he was probably just exhausted after a long day at work and didn't have the energy to engage more deeply, but in my heart, it stung a little. I wanted him to understand the gravity of what was happening and to offer some comfort. As our anniversary date approached, my mom's condition took a frightening turn for the worse.

She began vomiting blood and bile, was unable to keep anything down, and was struggling to sleep at night. I would stay up with her for hours at night and listen to the radio with her just to calm her down. It was terrifying to watch her suffer like this.

We visited the doctor, and he prescribed her medication to manage the symptoms, but he made it clear that things were becoming more serious. When Nick called me asking about when I would be driving back home so we could start packing for our approaching vacation, I told him with a heavy heart that I was having second thoughts about going on vacation. I explained that my mom's health was rapidly declining, and I wasn't sure if it was the right time for me to leave her.

Nick didn't take this well; he snapped, telling me that. . .

A one-week vacation wasn't going to kill my mother, and that he needed to spend time with me too. He went on to tell me how I always prioritized my disabled mother over him and that he felt neglected. His words hit me hard, and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me.

He was right; in a way, I was his wife, and our relationship was important. He needed me just as much as my parents did, and I could understand why he was upset. But at the same time, the thought of leaving my mom when she was so sick filled me with dread.

I couldn't shake the fear that something terrible might happen while I was away, and if it did, I knew I would never forgive myself. How could I relax and have fun when my heart was back home, filled with worry and guilt? However, I didn't want to fight with Nick.

I tried to calm him down and reassured him that I would come home in the next two days so we could go on the vacation as planned. When I finally mustered up the courage to tell my mom that I would have to leave in a day or two to go to my husband, she immediately started begging me to stay, her voice trembling with fear and vulnerability that I had never heard from her before. She kept telling me how scared she was of losing me, how she could feel something was wrong with her.

I felt scared hearing that; even my dad, who had always been the more stoic one, seemed deeply concerned. The fear in his eyes mirrored my own, and it was clear to me that they both needed me more than ever. At that moment, I knew what I had to do.

I could always go on a vacation with my husband later, but I couldn't replace this time with my mom when she needed me the most. Later that night, I broke the news to Nick. I firmly told him that I would be staying with my parents and that I would be canceling the vacation.

I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I hoped he would understand. Instead, he yelled at me, accusing my mom of being selfish for asking me to stay. He told me I was making a huge mistake and that I would regret this decision.

I tried to reason with him, pleading for his understanding. I told him that if his parents were ever going through something like this, I would never prioritize a vacation over their well-being. I would have been by his side, supporting him through every step of the way, just as I needed to support my mom now.

But no matter how much I tried to explain, Nick wasn't ready to understand. He kept saying that I was simply sacrificing our vacation for absolutely no reason. It broke my heart to see him like this—so angry and unwilling to see my side of things.

But I knew deep down that staying with my mom was the right thing to do, and as much as I wished Nick could understand the depth of my decision, I also had to accept that he might not, at least not right now. However, Nick made things between us even worse by asking me not to cancel the reservations. He went on to tell me that he was going to go to the resort without me.

My heart sank as I processed his words. Confused, I asked him if he was sure if he would be comfortable spending a week alone at the resort we had planned to visit together for our anniversary. I thought maybe he was just saying it out of frustration and hadn't really thought it through, but then he told me that he wouldn't be alone since he would be inviting his female coworker, Bella, to join him instead.

My mind raced as I tried to absorb what he was saying. For context, Bella was his subordinate at work, a woman seven years younger than him whom he had known for only two years. I knew they were close, but I had never worried about their relationship before.

Nick had always been open with me about his friendship with her. At work parties, I would see them laughing together and sharing inside jokes, and I had never felt threatened by their connection. Even when I heard that Bella referred to herself as Nick's "work wife," I didn't give it much thought.

I figured it was just a harmless crush, the kind of workplace flirtation that didn't mean anything. But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Nick would suggest taking Bella on a vacation that was meant to celebrate our marriage—our anniversary. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Nick went on to tell me that he wasn't going to throw away his vacation time just because I had decided not to go with him. I pointed out to him how wildly inappropriate it was to take a coworker, especially one who was his subordinate, on a vacation that was supposed to be for us. But Nick argued that I was basically abandoning him, so he had no other choice left.

He said he needed a break from work and knew Bella would be there for him. His words hit me like a ton of bricks; it felt like he was punishing me for doing what I felt was right. I couldn't believe the man I married, the man I loved, was saying these things to me.

It wasn't just about the vacation anymore; it was about our entire relationship, about the vows we had taken to stand by each other through thick and thin. How had we come to this point where he would rather go on a vacation with a coworker than support me in one of the most difficult situations I had ever faced? Times of my life, I spent the entire night worrying about our future.

I realized that my marriage was in serious trouble. Nick's decision to go on this vacation with Bella wasn't just a sign of his frustration; it was a sign that something was deeply wrong between us. The next day, when Nick demanded again that I call the hotel and change the reservation to include Bella instead of me, I yelled back at him, telling him that if he was really set on going through with this, then he needed to make these changes himself.

I wasn't going to help him erase me from our plans. After the call, I sent him all the booking details and then collapsed into tears, feeling utterly defeated. As I cried, I must have been louder than I realized because my dad came to check on me.

He gently asked if everything was okay and assured me that if I needed to go back home, he would take care of Mom. I shook my head, still crying, and told him that I wanted to stay. If Nick was really going through with this, what was the point of me going back?

The thought of returning to a house where I was clearly not valued, where my husband had chosen someone else over me, was unbearable. It felt like the life I had known, the life I had worked so hard to build, was falling apart. In the end, Nick did end up going to the resort with Bella.

From the resort, he even had the audacity to post multiple pictures online—images of them drinking cocktails, watching the sunset together, hiking together. The sight of him smiling with her in the photos, in the very place we were to celebrate our anniversary, made me feel sick. Soon, I started getting messages from some friends and cousins who also followed Nick on social media, who had seen the photos of him and this woman, asking if everything was okay between Nick and me.

Their concern was genuine, but it only deepened my sense of humiliation. It was as if the private pain I was experiencing had been dragged out into the open for everyone to see. I felt sick, ashamed, and utterly confused.

Clearly, Nick was knowingly humiliating me. I tried my best to convince myself that maybe nothing inappropriate was happening between Nick and Bella; that they were just relaxing and enjoying the break. But no matter how much I tried to rationalize it, I knew in my heart that what Nick was doing was wrong on so many levels.

It wasn't just the possibility of something sexual happening; it was the sheer indecency of it all—the betrayal, the disregard for our marriage, and the way he was punishing me for not going with him. The realization that the person I had devoted my life to could be so uncaring, so spiteful, was shattering. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, life dealt me the most crushing blow.

It was just three days after Nick had left for our vacation with Bella, and I was still trying to process the betrayal when, in the middle of the night, my mother passed away. My dad found her in the morning, and the sound of his heart-wrenching cries broke through my sleep like a nightmare came to life. I rushed to see what had happened, and when I saw her lifeless and peaceful, I fell to my knees.

She had been suffering long enough, and the only solace I could find in that moment of utter devastation was that she had passed away in her sleep, without further suffering. With her, I felt like a part of me had died. My dad somehow managed to collect himself enough to call the ambulance and begin making the necessary funeral arrangements.

I was numb and disconnected from reality throughout all this. The pain was so deep, so all-consuming, that I couldn't think or function. I don't know how he did it.

The only thing I could think to do was call Nick. I was desperate to hear his voice, to find some comfort in the person who was supposed to be my partner in life. Through my tears, I dialed his number, praying he would pick up and be there for me in this darkest moment.

But he didn't answer—not once. I called him over and over, leaving message after message, pleading for him to call me back as it was urgent. But there was nothing—no response.

My husband couldn't even be bothered to pick up the phone when I needed him the most. After my mom passed away, my friends and family rallied around me. They were there for me during the funeral, offering their support and love, but I was barely aware of anything that was happening.

I remember spending hours in my mom's room, lying on her bed, unable to move or face the world. I was too depressed to even check on my dad, who was grieving in his own way. I had lost my mother, and she was never coming back.

Despite all the pain and grief, I couldn't shake the thought that I had made the right decision by staying with my mom in her last days. The universe had guided me to be there with her, and for that, I was grateful. I couldn't imagine the regret I would have felt if I had actually left her to go on that vacation.

When I finally mustered the strength to open my social media to check on Nick, since he had still not called me back, what I saw confirmed my worst fears. Nick had posted more pictures from the resort, smiling and enjoying himself with Bella while I was mourning the loss of my mother. He hadn't even bothered checking in on me—not once.

As I stared at those pictures, it. . .

Became painfully clear how little I mattered to him. It was like a knife twisting in my already shattered heart; the weight of everything—the loss of my mother, the betrayal by my husband—was unbearable. But as I lay in my mother's bed, surrounded by the memories of her love and wisdom, something inside me shifted.

My mother had always been my guide, the one who taught me to stand tall, respect myself, and never settle for less than I deserved. In that moment of clarity, I realized then that I could never look at Nick the same way again. His actions over the past few days had shown me who he truly was, and it was someone I no longer recognized or could respect.

I knew I didn't want to spend the rest of my life constantly questioning my choices and punishing myself for them. I also could not trust him any longer and didn't want to torture myself with thoughts of whether he had slept with Bella or not. Those things didn't matter anymore.

What mattered was the realization that the man I thought I knew was gone, replaced by someone who had chosen to spend our fifth wedding anniversary sipping cocktails with another woman while I was burying my mother. The next day, with a heavy but resolute heart, I drove back to our house. I went from room to room, packing up my things, making sure to take everything that held any meaning to me.

I wanted to be gone before Nick returned from his vacation with Bella. The thought of facing him, of hearing whatever excuses he might offer, was something I couldn't bear. I packed quickly and left a note behind, telling him to enjoy his life with his "work wife," since I was done with him.

Drving back to my parents' place, I felt a mix of sorrow and resolve. My heart was heavy with grief, but for the first time in days, I felt a glimmer of strength. I was reclaiming my life, even if it meant starting over from scratch.

Nick had made his choice, and now I was making mine. After Nick returned home, he must have noticed my things were gone. I can only imagine his shock when he read my note and realized that I had packed up and left while he was away.

It didn't take long for him to start calling me—the phone ringing constantly, as if he could somehow undo everything with a few words. I knew my cousins had reached out to him, sending angry text messages about how poorly he had treated me by going on a vacation with his coworker while my mother had sadly passed away. He sent me multiple texts saying he had no idea and that he should have been there for me.

He's been begging me to call him back. Nick's apologies now feel empty, like he's saying them just because he's finally facing the fallout from his actions. But where was this concern when I needed him?

Where was his remorse when I was calling him, heartbroken and grieving, only to be met with silence? It's obvious to me now that his guilt is more about the backlash he's getting from others than any real understanding of the pain he's caused. **Update One:** To clarify, the reason I didn't want to talk to my husband first before taking this step to leave him was because there was nothing left to talk about.

I can't trust him any longer; even if he slept with Bella or not, he did this only to punish and hurt me. That's it. What else is there to discuss about this?

Some of you are right that I am being emotional and making rash decisions, but how many of your partners have spent their wedding anniversary with their coworkers and posted about it while you were grieving your mother's death? He doesn't have any sense of loyalty or respect for me, so why should I spend the rest of my life with him? **Update Two:** Thank you to those who have reached out to me with words of comfort since my last update.

I did talk to my dad about it and told him everything. I wanted his opinion on whether or not I was really making the right decision to leave my husband. He loves Nick just as much as he loves me, so I knew he would not be afraid to call me out if he thought I was making a mistake.

My dad agreed that what Nick did was unforgivable but also pointed out that I needed to talk to my husband and get to the bottom of this. My dad believes that Nick has been having an affair with Bella and has urged me to find out the truth so I can get some kind of closure. Hence, I have finally reached out to Nick and asked to meet with him one last time.

**Update Three:** Long story short, my dad and everyone else were right about Nick. He did have an emotional affair going on with Bella. He confessed to me during our conversation that although they never did anything physical, he had grown very close to her over time.

He basically blamed me for always neglecting him and how he never became my first priority, even after marriage. I argued back, reminding him of our regular date nights, the dinners I cooked for him, the conversations we had every evening about our lives, how I did his laundry exactly the way he liked, and how I cleaned the house even when I was exhausted after work because he didn't like the house being messy or disorganized, how I even bought him expensive gifts while he would only give awful and inconsiderate gifts in return. How, I asked, did I ever neglect him when I wasn't the one having an emotional affair with her coworker?

Nick had no answer to my question. He admitted that taking Bella on the vacation was his way of messing with me and making me feel bad. He assured me that nothing ever happened between them, but I didn't believe him.

He begged for forgiveness and almost broke down, apologizing for not being there for me during my mother's funeral, but I didn't even flinch. Life is too short to stay married to someone who is this childish and immature. I'm going ahead with the divorce as planned.

We don't have kids, so this is going to be straightforward.