While I cared for his sick mom, he traveled with his mistress—what I did after shocked him

For over a decade, I had been the one tending to Dave's mother, Anna, cleaning up after her, helping her with basic needs, massaging her legs, and turning her over in bed. It wasn't until she passed away that I finally had a moment to breathe. This time, Dave suggested a family road trip.

Excited, I threw myself into preparations, making sure everything was packed and ready. But just as we were about to leave, with all the luggage loaded into the car, Dave stopped me at the door. His voice was cold, detached: "There's no room in the car.

You can go next time. " Beside him, our son Nelson chimed in, "Mom, you're not young anymore. It's a long ride, and you'll just complain about your back hurting again.

" Our daughter, Daisy, walked past me without a word and got into the car. And just like that, they all left—except me. The next day, Dave posted a picture on social media.

In it, alongside our two children, was his close friend—a female friend. So this was the truth: While I had spent years trapped at home, taking care of his bedridden mother, my husband had been traveling across the country with her. Standing on the balcony, I adjusted my reading glasses and studied the photos Dave had posted.

I knew every person in them—my husband, Dave; my children, Nelson and Daisy; the people closest to me in this world. They looked so happy. A sudden memory surfaced: Two years ago, on Thanksgiving, I had wanted to take a family photo together on the couch.

What had they said back then? "Too much hassle, let’s do it next time. Nobody takes those cheesy family portraits anymore; it looks dumb.

" So that's what it was—they just didn't want to take a picture with me. And yet, without me knowing, they had long since gathered around another woman, taking so many of those so-called cheesy family portraits. I knew her—Elena.

She had been our college classmate, Dave's kindred spirit, as he used to call her. My hands trembled slightly as I gripped my phone. I turned away from the balcony and stepped back into the house—an empty house, one that now felt unbearably hollow.

I wandered from room to room; nothing had changed, yet today everything seemed vacant. I had spent years taking care of Dave's mother, Anna, who had been bedridden. She couldn't be left alone for a moment.

Dave, her son, had never wanted to take care of her. He always had an excuse: "I'm a man; it's not appropriate for me to do things like that. " So all the responsibilities fell on me.

Every holiday, every vacation, when they all went off to travel and enjoy themselves, I stayed behind, scrubbing soiled sheets and washing soiled clothes. I would daydream as I worked, waiting for them to come home and tell me stories about the places I had never seen. But when Nelson and Daisy returned, they would be too busy with school.

At least Dave would bring me a gift; that was the only time he would wrap an arm around my shoulder. His voice warm and gentle, he'd say, "You've worked so hard; this family really couldn't function without you, Jodie. Marrying you was the best decision of my life.

" I had grown up in the countryside, surrounded by men who were rough around the edges. A few sweet words from Dave, and my heart would feel light, as if soaked in honey. I went to the bedroom and pulled out a small box—my collection of memories: a scarf, a few dried flowers, two postcards, a chipped seashell, a pair of tiny ceramic figurines.

Looking at them now, I realized how cheap they were—little trinkets, probably picked up from roadside stalls. He had pacified me with these things for over 30 years. Then I recalled the scarf around Elena's neck in the photo—an unmistakable LV logo printed on it.

Our son had bought his girlfriend one just like it. Expensive. That tiny strip of fabric alone was worth more than most of my wardrobe.

And the dried flowers—I remembered now when Dave gave them to me. He had smiled and said, "Fresh flowers don't last; they wither in days. But these dried ones?

They'll last forever, just like our marriage. " Looking back now, wasn't that the truth? Our marriage had been just like those dried flowers—appearing untouched by time, yet brittle, dry, collecting dust, unnoticed by anyone.

If he truly believed dried flowers were better, then why, in that same photo, was Elena cradling a fresh bouquet of roses? The more I thought about it, the angrier I became, with rage burning in my chest. I dialed Dave's number.

He took his time answering, and when he finally did, his voice was low and impatient: "Make it quick. " I didn't bother with pleasantries. "So the car didn't have room for me, but it had room for Elena?

" There was a pause—just a second too long—before he scrambled for an excuse. "Elena just happened to be coming along. She's a friend, that's all.

Besides, she was the one who helped book the hotel for me and the kids. What, are you jealous of her now? " I let out a bitter laugh.

Out of all the hotels in the world, only she could book one? I could have booked a hotel too. I took a deep breath before delivering the final blow.

"Or was it special? Did the hotel she booked come with someone to undress you? Softer sheets, maybe?

" From the other end, I heard a faint voice calling Dave's name. He didn't argue, didn't try to explain; just brushed me off with, "Stop talking nonsense. Don't go around spreading rumors.

Elena is a dear friend—nothing more. So what? I didn't bring you this time.

You can come next time. " "All right then," he hung up. Up not long after, I got a message from Nelson: Mom got us a huge discount on the hotel through her friend.

Daisy and I are both keeping an eye on Dad for you. They're totally above board, so what's there to worry about? Oh, by the way, I ordered a new computer; it should be delivered tomorrow.

Can you move it into my room when it arrives? Be careful with it; it's expensive. I laughed a dry, hollow laugh.

So I was too frail to sit in a car for long, but not too frail to lift a heavy computer for him? I'm grateful, just like his father. Dave had always talked about how much he loved his mother, how much he cared about her.

He would sigh, tell people how hard it was, how much he wished he could do more for her—yet in all those years, the only time he ever shed a tear for her was when he was trying to impress an audience. The truth: he barely even fed her. I stared at the photo again, then down at my own rough, calloused hands, and only one thought filled my mind: how dare they treat me like this?

I wiped the tears from my face and started searching for Elena's account on every social media platform I could think of. It didn't take long to find her; then I started scrolling through her photos. One by one, I traced them back in time.

As it turned out, every few months they went on a trip together. Sometimes it was just the two of them; other times, they took Nelson and Daisy along. This had been going on for years—never stopping, never missing a trip.

And these photos—they had probably been on Dave's account all along; he had just made sure that I, and only I, couldn't see them. I had been too busy all these years to chat with friends, too exhausted to keep up with anything outside my endless cycle of housework: washing sheets, scrubbing floors, preparing meals. I had been so meticulous in caring for Anna that she never even developed a single bed sore.

That was because I bathed her, I massaged her, I turned her over every single day. If he hadn't slipped up this time and forgotten to block me, I might still be sitting at home waiting for him to come back, like every other time before. But there was one thing I couldn't understand: if Dave loved Elena so much, why hadn't he married her?

After all, it was him who had chased me down. He had been the one who insisted on marrying me. I hadn't always been just a tired housewife; once upon a time, I was the kind of woman people noticed.

Everyone in town knew me. I was smart, independent, and, as some said, even tougher than most men. My mother had raised me alone, working long hours in a small-town diner just to ensure I got a good education.

I graduated high school with excellent grades—a future wide open before me. But in a town like mine, rumors spread faster than truth. I never cared what people whispered until the night a group of local thugs followed me home.

I wasn't some helpless girl waiting to be saved. I grabbed a baseball bat and sent them running. But the story changed after that: "She's too aggressive; no man would ever want her.

She must have done something to provoke them; why else would she be out that late? " Had I done something wrong? Was I supposed to just stand there and let them attack me to prove I was ladylike enough?

The police arrested those men, but I was the one left with the whispers and stares. My mother lay awake at night worrying, "If this keeps up, will anyone ever want to marry you? " Then Dave changed everything.

He was a college student, one of the few from our town who had made something of himself. One day, in the middle of the town's busiest café, he slipped a love letter into my hands. He wasn't afraid of the rumors; he made a statement loud and clear: "This girl is worthy of love.

" And just like that, the town stopped talking. Everyone called me lucky—lucky to be chosen by such a respectable man. And I had been grateful to Dave for that.

When he went off to college, I saved every penny I could, sending him new shirts and shoes. When he started working, I ran the household, raised our children, took care of his parents, and became the perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect daughter-in-law. I had stood beside him, hand in hand in front of the minister, as he vowed, "I will love you, cherish you, and be faithful to you for the rest of my life.

" But if he had always loved Elena, why hadn't he just told me? Why had he married me? My hands shook with rage; my chest felt tight as if something was lodged in my throat.

I wanted to slap him hard over and over again, but he wasn't here. The only thing of his in front of me was his favorite suit, hanging neatly in the living room. I grabbed it, threw it on the floor, and stomped on it, but it wasn't enough.

I needed more. I stormed through the house looking for something—anything—that would make me feel less powerless. Dave liked to pretend he was some refined intellectual.

His study was lined with expensive books, notebooks filled with his handwritten notes, and limited edition signed novels he was so damn proud of. He only wore high-end shirts, each one needing to be perfectly ironed. His leather shoes had to be polished to a shine every single day.

And fishing—oh, how he loved fishing. I had always been the one to clean. .

. and organized his gear after every trip. I had done so much for him, and what had I gotten in return?

Blazing with fury, I grabbed his precious fishing rod and snapped it in half. Then I stormed into his study, yanked a stack of books off the shelf, and was about to rip them apart, but I hesitated. That would be too easy.

These were valuable, worth money. A slow, cold smile spread across my lips. Fine, if he loved his precious books so much, I'd make sure they ended up somewhere they'd actually be appreciated.

I marched into the bedroom, pulled out a suitcase, and started stuffing it full: his first editions, his handwritten notes, his prized signed novels—every last one of them. Then I zipped up the suitcase, grabbed the handle, and walked out the door, head held high. I had an old friend who worked at the city library.

We hadn't seen each other in years, aside from a brief encounter at the hospital where we exchanged a few pleasantries. This time, I showed up at the library's doors, dragging my suitcase behind me. His eyes widened in shock when he saw what I had brought.

“Jod, these books and notebooks are incredible! Are you sure you want to give them all away? ” “Yes,” I said coolly.

“Dave has moved on to finer things. These are nothing more than discarded relics to him. Keeping them at home is a waste—better to donate them so real book lovers can appreciate them.

” His fingers traced over the spines of the signed editions, his expression one of sheer reverence. He practically cradled a limited edition, leather-bound classic in his hands. “Jod, these books are impossible to find on the market now!

Keeping them in the family would be a legacy. Are you sure you don't want to save them for your kids? ” Legacy?

A bitter smile curled on my lips. What family did I have? My children didn't even care about me.

Why would they treasure these books? “Enough talking! Do you want them or not?

If not, I'll take them somewhere else. ” His head bobbed quickly. “Of course I want them!

These are priceless! ” I watched as he clutched those books like buried treasure, and I couldn't help but sneer internally. “Great,” I said.

“They're yours to handle now. I've got places to be. ” For the first time in a long time, the weight in my chest lifted, if only slightly.

I turned on my heels and went home to pack. This time I wasn't waiting for an invitation; I was taking myself on a trip. The world had changed.

There were countless travel guides online, and even a woman traveling alone could find her way. I booked a train ticket to Chicago. It was my first time ever sitting in a train this comfortable.

In the past, I had only ever taken the cheapest Greyhound buses. I remembered my first trip: Dave had already moved to the city for work and told me to come see him. The bus was overcrowded; I was squeezed between two massive men, barely able to breathe.

Across from me, another man had taken off his shoes—the rancid smell mixing with the musty air of the old bus, making my head spin. Even then, I held on. I had refused to spend the extra money on a plane ticket, but now, now I had to ask myself: Who was I even saving money for?

The thought made something inside me snap. I got up from my seat and went to the train's café car, buying myself a hot coffee and a sandwich. It wasn't really expensive, I knew, but compared to the days when I pinched every penny in half, it felt like a luxury.

Why had I spent my whole life scrimping and sacrificing only for other people to enjoy the fruits of it? As I sat back and took my first sip of coffee, truly enjoying the moment, my phone vibrated—a text from Daisy. “Mom, what did you buy?

Why are you using Dad's credit card? Do you have to be so reckless? That money was meant for my apartment renovations!

But my dear daughter, so a few dollars had her panicking. ” I was about to reply when she sent another text, this time more impatient: “I'm not saying you can't spend money, but can't you be more considerate? I didn't even ask for a car, just a little help with my place, and now you're taking that away too!

That's too much! ” I was alive, yet they were already planning out how my money should be spent. What was I—a cook, a maid, a servant whose every dollar had to be accounted for?

I typed out my response, making sure every word was crystal clear. “I used your father's credit card. If you have a problem, take it up with him.

But don't forget, half of that money belongs to me. Even if he wanted to give it to you, he'd only have half the say. You didn't ask for a car, sure, but you did study abroad for three years.

That cost over a hundred grand. Meanwhile, your brother's at a state university living on a budget of barely $1,000 a month. So tell me, who has spent more?

Let me be clear: I am still alive. My money is mine to spend however I see fit. Even if I were to throw it into a fireplace just to watch it burn, it would still be none of your business.

” Then I turned off my message notifications. Outside the window, the landscape stretched endlessly, the world so much bigger than the little box I had been trapped in for decades. I wasn't about to let her ruin my mood.

Chicago was dazzling, bustling, vibrant—alive in a way I had never experienced before. I had spent decades in that small. .

. Town, where the most crowded place I had ever seen was the hospital waiting room. Out of habit, I nearly booked the cheapest motel I could find, telling myself there was no need to splurge.

But then I thought of Daisy’s message; I thought of how she and her father had spent their vacations soaking in hot springs, lounging in five-star resorts, how they had never once questioned their spending. Why was I the only one expected to be frugal? So I did the opposite.

I picked a hotel that looked expensive, and it was worth it. The lobby smelled different, like luxury itself had a scent. A grand crystal chandelier sparkled above me, casting prisms of light across the gleaming marble floors, polished so smooth they reflected every movement.

The young woman at the front desk greeted me with the kind of warmth that felt foreign after so many years: politeness without obligation. She wasn't smiling at me because she had to get something in return; she was just kind. She processed my check-in, and soon enough, I was sinking into a bed so soft it felt like I was floating.

That was when it hit me: no wonder Dave and Elena looked so young; this was how they lived when they traveled. They woke up to this. Of course, they looked refreshed, happy, and carefree.

They were surrounded by comfort and hospitality, by people whose entire job was to make their experience pleasant. Meanwhile, I woke up every morning to the sound of an alarm and the weight of endless chores. My daily routine consisted of haggling with market vendors over a few dollars, arguing about shortchanged portions of meat and vegetables, trying to stretch every cent to make it last.

If I had known that all my scrimping and saving was just going to be spent by someone else, I would have given up haggling years ago. Hell, I would have handed over double the money just to see more smiling faces. .

. but that was just a thought. Because the reality, when I woke up the next morning and realized I had just spent over $400 for a single night's stay, made my stomach clench.

And when I remembered that Dave had been spending this kind of money for years, my chest ached even more. So, I had a city to explore. The front desk girl was just as cheerful as the night before, patiently explaining the best way to take the train to Millennium Park.

Before I left, I asked her, "Hotels like this, they're always this expensive, right? No matter where you go? " She gave me a puzzled look.

“Ma'am, this isn't a luxury hotel; we're just a chain of budget-friendly business hotels. Five-star hotels charge way more. ” Then, noticing my expression, she quickly helped me download an app to compare hotel prices and make bookings in advance.

Curious, I searched for the hotel Dave and the kids were staying in. One night: $1,800. I stepped outside, standing in the middle of a bustling Chicago street, watching the waves of people pass me by, and I laughed.

“Jody, what a joke you are! All this time, you thought you were indulging in luxury. Turns out you weren't even close to touching their leftovers.

” I stood at the entrance of Millennium Park and asked a stranger to take a photo for me— a photo with just me in it. And yet, it felt complete. I studied my own image on the screen; a vague memory surfaced.

The last time I had taken a picture was with Dave during our wedding shoot. Back then, my hair was thick, my smile was bright, and my voice carried three times louder than anyone else's. Now, my hair was streaked with white, my face lined with exhaustion.

It was as if these decades of marriage had drained me dry. But the moment didn't last long; my phone rang. “Who is this?

” “Dave! Jod, where the hell did you take my credit card? Where are you right now?

” I couldn't tell if his panic was real or just for show. Either way, I answered calmly, “I'm in Chicago. ” He hesitated for a moment before snapping, “What are you doing running off like that?

You've never traveled far before! What if something happens to you? Didn’t I already tell you we promised we'd take you next time?

Why are you acting like a child at your age? ” Then came the real issue. “And even if you're out, could you at least try to be frugal?

You're spending way too fast! It’s been one day and you’ve already blown through almost $600! ” “That money was supposed to—” I cut him off.

“786. ” “Silence. ” “What?

” he repeated, slow and clear. “Between the hotel, food, and train ticket, I spent $786 yesterday. Not even half the cost of one night in your hotel.

Tell me, Dave, why is it that in this family I'm the only one who has to be frugal? Why is it that my spending is the only one that bothers you? ” I had never questioned him about money before; maybe that was why he was caught off guard.

Instinctively, he blurted out, “That's different. You don't earn money. ” The second the words left his mouth, he must have realized his mistake.

He scrambled to correct himself. “The kids are working now, Jod. They're under a lot of stress.

This trip was to help them relax. Why are you comparing yourself to the kids anyway? What’s done is done; you spent the money, so you should be happy now, right?

But listen, the world isn’t safe these days. You should come home. ” “There’s nothing going on at home right now!

So while you’re there, take my books out of the shelves and air them out for me. ” He actually had the audacity to tell me to air out his books? At that moment, I thought maybe what really needs some fresh air is our marriage.

"Air is your damn brain, Dave," and then it hit me—his books! I had almost forgotten I had donated them. The image popped into my head: Dave walking into his study expecting his shelves full of prized books, only to find them empty.

I almost burst out laughing right then and there. "Let Elena do it," I said. "Smirky, isn't she?

Always so eager to help. " "Jod, what is wrong with you lately? Why are you so obsessed with Elena?

" I already told you we were just friends. I hung up. I wasn't about to let him ruin such a beautiful day by dragging me into his filth.

Friends? He really had no shame using that word. I spent the entire morning at the Art Institute of Chicago, walking through halls lined with magnificent paintings.

When I finally stepped outside, I hopped on the subway again, heading toward the historic district. At a cozy Italian restaurant, I treated myself to an authentic Chicago deep-dish pizza, savoring every bite. From there, I made my way to Navy Pier, watching as the Ferris wheel turned slowly against the evening sky.

As night fell, I finally boarded the train home. I had a battle to fight. Throughout my trip, I had seen families traveling together—parents holding their children's hands, adult children pushing their elderly parents in wheelchairs—all of them laughing and enjoying their time together.

The more I saw, the more certain I became: my husband and children had abandoned me. That was not my fault, and if they had so easily cast me aside, then there was no reason for me to hold on to them any longer. From this moment on, my life would be mine to control.

They came back two days early, and they brought Elena with them. The moment Nelson stepped through the door, he shouted, "Mom, we've got a guest! " Daisy, without even glancing at me, kicked off her shoes and headed straight for the fridge.

Upon finding it empty, she turned back with a frown. "Mom, why didn't you get any juice? I texted you on the way home.

" I stared coldly at Nelson. "If you're planning on replacing me, there's no rush. Take a few more days, and then you can invite whoever you want over.

" Then, turning to Daisy, I asked, "How much did you pay me to be your maid? " Daisy blinked, confused. "Mom, what are you talking about?

" Elena let out a light chuckle and made herself comfortable on my couch. "Dave said you misunderstood everything. He wanted me to explain that it was just a coincidence.

I just happened to run into them on this trip. " She smiled, tilting her head slightly as if this was just an amusing little mix-up. "Jody, we've known each other for years.

If there was really something between me and Dave, why would he have pursued you back then? " I picked up the throw pillow behind her and patted the dust off it. I had made that pillow myself; it would be a shame if she dirtied it.

"Some people like eating steak in their youth and end up eating in their later years. Tastes change. Who can say for sure?

" I met her gaze and smirked. "Who knows what Dave was thinking? People change, but I do find it interesting—a man and a woman conveniently taking trips together every few months.

Hard to believe it's just because they're tired of their usual meals and not craving something filthier. " Elena's smile froze. "What exactly are you implying?

" she said, her voice a little sharper now. "Throwing around disgusting accusations with no proof—do you enjoy slandering others? " She scoffed and added, "No wonder you had such a terrible reputation back in town.

And to think Dave used to say you were kind. He really misjudged you! " Daisy glanced between us, rolling her eyes before stomping off to her room when she realized I wasn't paying her any attention.

Nelson, however, was eager to jump to his new mother's defense. "Mom, you're being ridiculous! How can you talk about Aunt Elena like that?

She came here out of kindness to clear up this misunderstanding between you and Dad! " I cut him off with a slap. The sound echoed through the room.

Nelson clutched his face, eyes wide with shock. "Mom, you actually hit me! " I nodded.

"And I'll do it again if you keep lying. " His mouth opened, but no words came out. "Was this the first time you accidentally ran into her on a trip, or has it conveniently happened every single time?

" I grabbed a stack of photos and flung them at him. "What a wonderful son I raised—so obedient, so filial to someone else's mother. But when you come home, I'm nothing but a servant to you, isn't that right?

Lying comes so easily to you. Now go ahead! Explain it to me—how is it that she just so happens to end up on every single one of your family vacations?

" Nelson shrank back into the corner of the couch, silent. Elena's eyes darkened as she glanced at the photos. "And what exactly do these prove?

" she said, her voice colder now. "We're just travel companions. It's not like we did anything inappropriate.

" She let out a small laugh. "What did you think? Dave should have taken you instead?

" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me, Jod, do you really understand what travel means? Do you think you and Dave could ever connect on that level?

Could you ever stand before the Grand Canyon and truly appreciate its grandeur? " She leaned forward slightly, as if offering me a piece of wisdom. "People should know their place.

You know nothing about Dave's intellectual world, and honestly, given your past, you should be grateful he married you at all. He never abandoned you, despite everything. Tell me, if you were in his shoes, could you look at your own reflection and.

. . " Day and feel love.

I reached up and touched my face, then I laughed softly. "Elena," I said, tilting my head, "do you really think you're superior? " Her confidence wavered for a split second.

"We took the same entrance exam, didn't we? And as I recall, your score was dozens of points lower than mine. " I smiled.

"I got into university but chose not to go, and you, from what I remember, had to take the test three times just to get into a mediocre college. " Her face twitched just for a moment, then just as quickly she schooled her expression back into neutrality. Dave's voice rang out behind me, "Jo, when did you become so bitter?

Why are you humiliating Elena? " He scoffed. "So what if Elena took the college entrance exam three times?

That just proves she's persistent. And you, you had the chance to go to college and threw it away. You chose to be a failure, so what right do you have to judge her?

" I inhaled deeply, setting my cup down with deliberate calm before turning to face him. My gaze was sharp as a blade. "You have the nerve to say that?

I scored higher than you! If you could get into college, don't you think I could have? Or have you conveniently forgotten why I never went?

It was because you had me running around doing your chores in the days before the application deadline. I missed my submission because you needed me to clean up after you. " I took a step closer, my voice cold and steady.

"Who paid for your tuition when your mother bolted at the mention of money? Who bought you those crisp new shirts so you wouldn't look like a beggar in college? Who kept you afloat when your own family didn't give a damn?

Me! It was me! And now you dare stand here and call me a failure?

" Dave's face turned bright red, whether from shame or anger, I didn't care. His fists clenched tightly at his sides. "Jo, you're a bitter, cruel woman.

" Beside him, Elena placed a gentle hand on his arm, adopting her usual fragile, pitiful expression. Then Nelson, who had been conveniently silent until now, suddenly jumped in to defend them. "Mom, that's enough!

Can't you just talk without attacking people? " I let out a sharp laugh and stared him down. "Fine then, you tell me: why is it always Elena going on vacations with your dad instead of me?

You three go off on your little adventures, and when you come home, I'm expected to be a playmate. So tell me, Nelson, do you see me as your mother or just a free housekeeper? " Nelson opened his mouth, then shut it again.

He had no answer. "You think you're the victim," I continued, my voice steady and relentless. "Daisy complains I favor you; you complain I favor her.

You two really are twins, so perfectly in sync. Every time you both got into trouble, Daisy admitted her mistakes, but you stood there, stiff-necked, talking back. And when she went abroad, did I not ask for your opinion first?

You agreed, but now you've decided it was unfair. You want to talk about favoritism? You think I chose to spend money on Elena instead of you?

Your father set your allowance, not me! The only extra money you ever got came from my savings. " I let my gaze drift back to Elena, my tone sharp.

"And guess where that money went? Straight into their little vacations. Every cent you thought I had saved for you was spent on them.

" Nelson's face twisted as he looked at me, then at Dave, who refused to meet his eyes. Finally, without another word, he stomped off to his room. "The last piece," I turned to Dave, my voice calm and resolute.

"I want a divorce. " Dave hadn't even processed my words before Elena gasped, like she had been struck. "No, you can't divorce him!

" she looked frantic, her usual composed demeanor cracking. "What does that make me if you two split up? This will ruin my reputation!

I haven't done anything inappropriate! " Dave, in contrast, remained utterly unfazed. He held Elena's hand, his grip firm, his expression smug.

"Are you sure? " he asked, his tone almost amused. "You really want to go through with this, Jo?

Let's be honest, you're useless on your own. Who's going to support you after this? No one's going to hire you.

" I let out a slow, cold chuckle. "You really have the gall to say you support me? Tell me, Dave, do you have any idea how much you owe me?

Hiring a nurse for a bedridden patient costs at least $2,000 a month! I took care of your mother for 16 years! You walked around in expensive clothes during college—those were paid for by me, sewing clothes late into the night!

Your first job paid you only $1,500 a month, remember? Meanwhile, I raised two children and took on seamstress work just to keep our household running! And now, after everything I've done for you, you have the audacity to tell me you supported me?

" Dave's face burned with color, whether it was rage or shame, I didn't care. I pulled a stack of papers from my bag and placed them on the table. "Sign it.

We're finalizing this tomorrow. " Dave snatched the divorce papers, his eyes scanning the terms. Then, with a cruel smirk, he ripped them to shreds.

"Half of my assets? Keep dreaming. At most, I'll give you $15,000 as a settlement.

Take it or leave with nothing. " I smiled. "Are you sure you want to do this, Dave?

I'm giving you an easy way out. Clean break, so you and your good friend can finally live happily ever after. " Dave scoffed.

"There's no reasoning with you. " I nodded. "All right, Dave.

Just remember, you chose this. " My bag and turned toward the door behind me. His voice rang out one last time.

"Jod, where do you think you're going? The house isn't even clean yet! " I didn't turn around.

"Go to hell, Dave. " Early the next morning, I stationed myself right outside Dave's office building. Beside me, I propped up a large poster board covered with pictures and details of Dave and Elena's Grand Love Story.

A crowd gathered. I wasn't embarrassed in the slightest; whenever someone asked, I told the story vividly—how he was a heartless man, how he had leeched off his wife for half his life, how he built himself up by draining me only to turn around and try to kick me out with nothing. Dave had always played the role of the principled man, spouting nonsense about loyalty and responsibility to anyone who would listen.

Well, today I was going to rip that mask right off his face. His co-workers tried to intervene, pacing around anxiously trying to calm me down. "Jod, what's the point of this?

" one of them pleaded. "Look, maybe Dave was wrong, but you don't actually have proof that anything physical happened between him and Elena, do you? Why don't we just get him to apologize?

You've been together for so many years; you should be enjoying your life by now. Why go through all this trouble? It's so messy.

" I turned my gaze on him, my lips curling into a cold smile. "Enjoy my life? " I sneered.

"Who is enjoying life? The life of doing laundry and cooking? Or maybe you were talking about the privilege of scrubbing floors while someone else vacations on a tropical island?

" I folded my arms. "This blessing you speak of—would you like it? " His mouth snapped shut before he could attempt another excuse.

His phone rang. He answered, looking increasingly uncomfortable as he listened. Then his eyes went wide in shock.

After hanging up, he turned to me, flustered. "Jod, you need to stop this! Dave's in the hospital.

" I gave him a slow, disinterested blink. "And that concerns me how? Shouldn't you be telling Elena?

" His lips pressed into a tight line, and he let out a defeated sigh. Moments later, my own phone buzzed. His voice was frantic, almost desperate, with a hint of tears.

"Mom, where the hell did you put Dad's books? His notebooks? His signed editions?

Where are they? " I raised an eyebrow. "And why do you care?

" "That's his whole life! Mom, this morning he went to his study, saw the books were gone, and collapsed on the spot! I had to skip work to take him to the hospital!

" "I get it, you're mad at him, but why take it out on his books? That's childish. " I almost laughed.

Even now, he thought I was just throwing a tantrum. "Did your father not tell you? " I asked calmly.

"I'm divorcing him. " Nelson scoffed. "Force!

After all these years? Come on, Mom, let's not be dramatic. Look, I'll even apologize for him, okay?

" He took a deep breath, clearly trying to reason with me. "Look, I know you didn't actually throw those books away. You know how valuable they are.

Just tell me where you hid them, and I'll come get them. " I smirked. "You're right, I didn't throw them away.

" I let the silence stretch for a second before delivering the blow. "I donated them. " There was a pause.

"What? " I smiled. "Tell your father to visit the library if he wants to see them again—if they even let him touch them.

" Nelson panicked. "Mom, you know you're joking, right? This isn't funny!

You can't just do that! How could you be so—" I hung up. Then I blocked him, and with that, I turned back to my audience and continued telling the story of Dave the Ungrateful.

I had always known those books and notes meant a lot to Dave, but I never expected him to be this fragile. All it took was losing his collection and being teased by a few colleagues, and just like that, he had a stroke. When Daisy told me, she didn't sound panicked like Nelson had.

Instead, her voice was calm. "Mom, Dad had a stroke. Do you want to come see him?

I know you probably don't, but I figured I should at least ask. " There was something hollow in her tone, as if she wasn't expecting anything from me at all. For a brief moment, I felt the old instinct to comfort her, to say something, but I held back.

She was 30 years old now—not the little girl who used to throw her arms around me and whisper, "I love you most, Mommy. " In the end, I simply replied, "I won't be coming. " This situation would only make the divorce messier, so I would sue him instead.

A court battle would take time. While I waited, I moved to a quiet coastal city and rented a room in a senior living community. Life here was peaceful.

I made friends—women who had their own stories, their own struggles. We played cards in the common room, took slow walks by the ocean, and sometimes I even helped them mend their clothes. Whenever their children came to visit, they would occasionally bring me small gifts: a scarf, a box of tea, a set of handmade soaps.

The world was still full of strangers willing to show me kindness, and yet the children I had raised—the ones I had sacrificed everything for—well, they had nothing but indifference left for me. Not worth thinking about. The divorce battle dragged on for an entire year.

Dave tried to use his connections to stall the process, but in the end, he couldn't stop the inevitable. When the court ruling came down, he was forced to split our assets evenly. That torn-up agreement of his, it only ended.

. . Up costing him more in legal fees, his health never improved.

Elena took care of him for a while, but eventually, she couldn't stand living with a man who had lost his status and influence. One day, without a word, she packed up and left. Nelson and Daisy had long since grown tired of the mess; they had their own lives, their own worries.

The same children who once relied on him for financial support now found themselves unable to care for him, and so he was sent to a nursing home. I never went to see him; that chapter of my life was closed. After the divorce, my days were lighter than I ever imagined.

I stayed in the seaside town for a year before enrolling in a community crafts class. I spent my time doing things I actually enjoyed: I learned how to weave, took up small sewing projects, and even set up a little stand for tailoring and alterations. I wasn't wealthy, but for the first time in my life, I was free.

Every now and then, I took the train to new places—not the extravagant vacations Dave had indulged in, but simple, carefree travels, going wherever I pleased. One day, I met a woman about my age while on a trip. We talked about life, about family.

She smiled and said, "The most important thing in a woman's life isn't having a good husband; it's having a heart that no one can chain down. " That evening, as I sat by the shore, sipping a warm cup of coffee and watching the sun set over the ocean, I felt something shift inside me. For the first time, I was truly at peace.

I finally understood: I no longer had to live up to anyone's expectations. Years later, Daisy called me. Her voice sounded different—more mature, stripped of the accusations that once laced her words.

"Mom, I'm asking seriously this time: would you like to come stay with me for a while? " I chuckled. "Daisy, weren't you the one always worried about me spending your money?

" She hesitated before replying, her voice quieter than before. "Mom, I really didn't understand things back then. I just thought that everything at home was your responsibility, but now I realize a lot of things were never supposed to be.

I don't expect you to forgive me, but I do want to make up for some of my mistakes. " I gazed out at the ocean; the waves crashed against the shore just as they always had, as if nothing had changed. But I knew everything had changed.

I didn't say yes, but I didn't say no either. "Let me finish exploring the world first, then I'll think about it. " I ended the call, slipped on the jacket I had sewn myself, and headed out to meet my friends at the pier to watch the fishing boats come in.

My life was just beginning; why would I stop now?