When I married my husband, I thought we were chasing the same dreams. I carried the entire household, believing I was supporting his work in his home office—until I uncovered what his “work” really was.
For the past three years, I’d been married to Soren, a man who called himself “the busiest guy alive.” That’s how he explained locking himself in his office for hours. But one day, I learned the truth about his “work,” and it changed everything between us.
Soren always talked about “building our future,” a phrase he used so much it was practically his catchphrase. I believed him. I wanted to. Isn’t that what love is? Standing by your partner, even when it’s tough?
To ease his stress, I took on everything else. I raised our two kids, kept the house running, and worked part-time to stretch our tight budget. But lately, it felt like everything was slipping away—our money, my peace of mind, and, worst of all, my trust in Soren.
Even though our bills were always late and money was tight, I trusted him when he said he was “this close” to a breakthrough. He spent his days shut in his sparse “office,” claiming he was in “big meetings” or “crunching numbers.”
I bent our whole lives around supporting him, keeping the kids quiet and timing my chores so I wouldn’t disturb him. Our days fell into a routine.
Soren would wake up early, grab breakfast with a quick “Got a huge meeting today,” and vanish into his so-called “command center.” He called it that like he was planning a world takeover. But for all his big talk, our bills stayed unpaid.
Yesterday, though, everything changed.
It was a Wednesday, the kind of day that felt endless. The kids were home from school, stirring up extra chaos. Kael, my youngest, was racing around the dining table, our dog yipping happily along with him.
My older daughter, Nova, was practicing her handstands in the living room. Meanwhile, I scrubbed the kitchen counters, trying to keep things under control while staying as quiet as possible.
“Shh!” I whispered to Kael as he zoomed by. “Daddy’s working.”
“But Mommy,” he pouted, grabbing the dog’s collar, “Buddy wants to play!”
I sighed. I didn’t have the energy to argue. Soren had been in his office for hours. At breakfast, he’d said, “I’ve got a critical meeting today. No interruptions.” I nodded, like always, though it stung. No interruptions had become our family’s unspoken rule.
As I cleaned the stove, my thoughts drifted. When was the last time Soren and I really talked? Not about money or the kids, but about us? Something real? I pushed the thought away, focusing on the task.
Then it happened.
Kael, chasing Buddy, startled me, and the frying pan I was holding slipped, crashing onto the tile floor with a noise so loud it made Nova yelp and Kael giggle.
“Oops!” Kael laughed, covering his mouth.
The next second, Soren stormed out of his office, face red, eyes burning. “Can’t you keep it quiet for one minute?!” he shouted, making the kids freeze. “Do you know how embarrassing this is during a meeting?”
I gripped the counter, stunned. “Soren, I—”
He cut me off, his voice sharp with frustration. “You’re unbelievable! I’m in there working my tail off, and you can’t even keep things under control!”
The kids stared, wide-eyed and silent. Kael clung to Buddy’s fur like the dog could protect him. I opened my mouth to apologize, but then I heard it—a woman’s voice. Soft, flirty, and completely wrong for our home.
I turned toward the office door, my stomach twisting. “Soren,” I said slowly, “who’s in there?”
His face shifted from anger to panic. “Just a client,” he mumbled, stepping in front of the door. “Leave it alone.”
But I wasn’t buying it. My gut churned as I pushed past him into the room.
What I saw was unreal. The computer screen glowed with a colorful, cartoonish online game. In the corner was a video call window, showing a perky, animated avatar labeled “LILYBLOOM22.” The avatar giggled like this was all a big joke.
“What is this?” My voice trembled but stayed steady.
Soren’s panic turned to defiance. “It’s my hobby,” he said, puffing up his chest like always when he was cornered. “You’re always so dull! I need a break! Lily gets me. She’s fun to talk to, unlike you.”
It felt like a punch to the face.
“Your hobby?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You’ve been locking yourself in here, pretending to work, while I’ve been killing myself to keep this family going? For what? To flirt with some stranger online?”
“She’s not just a stranger!” Soren snapped, his face red. “She actually listens to me, which is more than you do.”
I blinked, stunned silent. The kids peeked around the corner, their curious eyes darting between us. I motioned for them to go to their rooms, and they obeyed.
Turning back to Soren, my anger boiled over. “Do you hear yourself?” I said, my voice shaking. “I’ve given up everything for you—for us! And you’re wasting time on this… this garbage?”
Soren scoffed, his confidence cracking. “Maybe if you weren’t so tired and nagging all the time, I wouldn’t need this.”
Tears ran down my face, but I didn’t care. He doubled down, shouting, “You know what? I’m done! I’m going to Lily! She makes me happy!”
He stormed out of the office, grabbed a duffel bag from the bedroom closet, and started shoving clothes in, ignoring me. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen. And just like that, he was gone.
The next day was a blur. I swung between rage, heartbreak, and a strange sense of relief. The house felt quieter, not just physically but emotionally. The kids kept asking when Daddy was coming home, and I gave them the same answer: “I don’t know, sweetheart.”
On the second day, Soren’s mom called. Her desperate tone caught me off guard.
“Ziva,” she started, “I know you’re upset, but I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” I asked, bracing myself.
Her voice shook as she explained. “Soren drove hours to meet Lily. But… she wasn’t who he thought.”
My heart dropped. “What do you mean?”
“Lily,” she said, “is a middle-aged man with a beard. He’s been catfishing Soren for months and even got him to send money for ‘plane tickets.’ Soren’s crushed!”
The ridiculousness hit me, and I burst into laughter—real, deep, unstoppable laughter. It felt good, like letting go of years of frustration.
“So he wasn’t even working?” I asked, still chuckling.
“No, Ziva, he played games for a little cash but wasn’t making much. Some of it he sent to this Lily person. Please,” his mom begged, “he’s humiliated. He wants to come home.”
I took a deep breath, my laughter fading. “No,” I said firmly. “Soren made his choices. I’ve spent too long putting myself last. I’m done.”
When Soren called, begging to come back, I told him I wanted a divorce and I was keeping everything. I offered him his laptop. “Maybe you’ll find a better ‘Lily’ next time.”
With little to his name and an online betrayal, Soren couldn’t fight me, and I got everything, including the kids.
In the weeks that followed, I started rebuilding. I found a full-time job and enrolled the kids in daycare. It was scary, but each step felt like freedom. The weight of carrying Soren’s burdens lifted, and I felt lighter than I had in years.
One night, as I tucked Kael into bed, he looked up with big, curious eyes. “Mommy,” he whispered, “are we gonna be okay?”
I smiled, brushing his hair back gently. “Yes, sweetheart,” I said with a confidence I hadn’t felt in years. “We’re going to be more than okay.”
And for the first time, I truly believed it.