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Lacey anticipates warmth, laughter, and possibly even love for her husband’s birthday meal. Instead, what she receives shatters her world. Lacey must choose between keeping quiet and taking back the life she never intended to give up as a single sentence shatters the facade of her marriage.
One chilly October evening, I met Aidan at a beach campfire. I recall his chuckle rising over the crackle of burning wood, and the flash of flames in his eyes.
He had a certain warmth that drew you in and gave you the impression that even the most ridiculous things would sound like music to him.
Aidan learned how I used to microwave my chocolate chip muffins for eight seconds to get the chips all gooey and how I drank light coffee without sugar. And once, when I had the flu, he even surprised me with homemade soup.
I was won over by the small things. The warmth, presence, and consideration of Aidan. These things seemed like they were really uncommon.
Two years later, we were married. I was thirty years old and was advancing in my marketing profession. Software developer Aidan was also doing very well. He introduced baby names, talked about starting a family, and talked about doing things “the right way.”
He sat me down for a serious talk after our wedding.
“Lacey, we ought to get started right away if we’re serious about having children. Why hold off? Let me look after us! While you fulfill all of our ambitions, let me keep us solid.
I paused.
I had a great job. However, love makes you do odd things, and I believed that this was a necessary part of creating a life together.
So I gave up. As simple as that.
My hubby changed all of a sudden.
The coffee in the morning stopped. A dismal silence that stood between us like a locked door replaced the gentle goodnights.
“Our” gradually gave way to “mine.” All of it was suddenly his. His home, his wealth, and his regulations. In the process, I ceased to be his partner and turned into an unseen worker in my own life.
Like clockwork, I discovered a list tacked on the refrigerator every morning. Dinner needed to be made, laundry needed to be folded, floors needed to be mopped, and groceries needed to be purchased.
Roast lamb. Roast potatoes that are extra crispy.
There were never any questions, only bullet points. only the demands and guidelines that Aidan insisted be met. In his home, I felt like a staff worker. And that’s how I felt, slowly and cruelly. As if I had been recruited to assist without receiving payment or gratitude.
Like playing house with a stranger.
I had brought up the possibility of taking on some freelance work. Just something little, something original, something that belonged to me. I longed to be independent once more. Aidan’s eyes seldom left his laptop. He dismissed me with a sweep of his hand, as if I were a child pulling at a parent’s sleeve.
“No need,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders. “You’ve returned home. We concurred.
However, we hadn’t. Not at all. Speaking in a tone too hard to debate, he made it seem as though they had decided on it together, yet it had always been his suggestion. I loved him, therefore I had said yes. because I believed that sacrifices were only a part of the narrative. In any case, I embarked on freelance employment.
However, this no longer felt like a sacrifice. It had the feel of servitude.
Who was I married to? Every day I thought to myself.
I stayed, nevertheless. I told myself that we were getting used to marriage, that he was under pressure at work, and that it was just a difficult time. I was fortunate, I told myself. I made an effort to recall my spouse.
The person who held my hand in the dark and brought me soup. But all I saw was that man’s shape, hollow and faded.
Then his 35th birthday arrived.
Our family and friends were crammed into the house. Voices overlapped in joyful anarchy, glasses clinked together, and laughter reverberated off the walls. His cousins were already choosing the next song as they gathered around the speakers.
His parents were drinking wine while lounging on the couch. As usual, my parents were by the window, quietly surveying the place with kind smiles and contemplative looks.
It appeared to be a party. It had the sound of one. And I briefly allowed myself to think that perhaps the night would continue to be cheerful and bright.
Rearranging the snack platter that I had prepared hours earlier was what I was doing in the kitchen. I had spent the entire day in the kitchen creating skewered caprese nibbles, crab-stuffed mushrooms, and tiny spinach puffs. It was the sort of spread that needed preparation, time, and patience.
I balanced the tray in my hands, repositioned a garnish, and inhaled. Aidan’s voice sliced through the air like a razor as I entered the living room, warmth still clinging to my smile.
He answered, “Well, go on then, Lacey,” in a dry and overly loud voice. “How much of my money did you spend on today?”
Most of the laughs paused in the middle of a sentence. Those who had no idea how else to react to that gave a few uncertain chuckles. Talk hovered in the air.
Still clutching the tray, I froze. My ears throbbed with my heartbeat.
He continued, taking a sip of his drink as if he were proud, “You’re living off me, eating for free, and didn’t even bother to get me a gift,”. “You’re not even expecting a child. You seem to have no desire for a child at all.
Suddenly, the tray felt too heavy. My arms hurt. Heat prickled my face, making it blush. I looked around and saw pity, perplexity, discomfort, and short-lived reactions.
My throat constricted. My mind drifted. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
My father cleared his throat, and I heard it. It was a sound I had heard since I was a child. But it had purpose and weight tonight.
“Aidan, you’re right,” he remarked.
Stunned, I turned to my father. My stomach turned over. He wasn’t a sentimental person. He rarely got into arguments and was calm and reserved. However, there was something jagged behind his eyes when he gazed at Aidan at that moment.
He went on, his tone steady yet piercing, each syllable landing with such accuracy that the quiet became thicker.
“Lacey chose someone like you rather than staying in her job and finding a man who respects her.” She is now living off of you. exactly as you desired.
My throat tightened each breath. The grin on Aidan’s face wavered. The room began to wobble all around us, as if the floor had shifted and nobody knew how to stand.
My mother moved forward and said, “That’s not all,” her voice cutting through the tension.
Clearly startled by her abrupt severity, Aidan blinked.
“She made all this food,” my mother replied, pointing to the huge table that was lighted by candles. “She took care of every detail and cleaned every inch of this house. Aidan, who do you suppose did that? Elves weren’t involved.
It’s Lacey’s responsibility. This is why she spends her days at home. She is expected to carry out these actions without hesitation.
I winced. He shouted that in front of everyone, not because I had never heard it before. My husband dehumanized me as if it didn’t matter.
“Then pay her for it,” asserted my mother. “If it’s a job, she should be earning a wage.”
“She’s my wife,” Aidan said as he moved about.
“You’re correct, Aidan. But not in the manner you believe,” my mother responded in a calm, steady voice. “Your maid isn’t Lacey. She does not cook for you. This gathering would take place in a restaurant and you would lose a few thousand dollars if she weren’t present. Which is it, then? Which would you prefer—a full-time, unpaid employee or a partner?
His eyes darted around as if he was looking for support. No one showed up. All that was visible were tense lips and blank looks.
He ultimately answered, “She should still work,” refusing to back down. “And do the house stuff, too.”
With a soft clinking sound, I placed the tray on the closest table. This song’s last note was that sound.
That was it. the instant something inside of me exploded.
I took a deep breath.
“All of it?” I inquired. “You think I should do everything, Aidan?”
He didn’t respond. He was unable to. His lips remained gaping as he sat there.
“Well, here’s something you didn’t know, sweetheart,” I responded. “I’ve been working remotely as well as keeping this house together. as a designer. For several tech firms—two foreign ones, to be exact. And because I didn’t want any drama, I did it in silence.
My hubby merely gazed.
“I also saved every penny. Naturally, Aidan, I also got you a present. I simply figured that when everyone had gone, I would deliver it to you tonight.”
An envelope was folded and I took it out of my pocket. I smiled as I gave it to him.
“A trip to the Maldives for two people. Food, lodging, and the flight were all covered.
Aidan’s mouth parted, then shut again. He had nothing to say, for once. No arrogant comment was made. No counterargument. Nothing but quiet.
However, I now understand that traveling alone will allow me to appreciate the trip more. Additionally, you’ll have plenty of time to review the divorce documents I intend to submit while I’m abroad.”
Aftershocks of gasps echoed around the room. However, nobody intervened to stop me.
The world seemed to stop for a time.
Knowing that everyone was watching me, I carefully and gently put on my coat after picking it up. My chest throbbed, but my hands worked with a steadiness that didn’t match it. However, I was aware that I would feel too much if I stopped for even a moment.
I moved in the direction of the front door.
There was silence behind me. There was silence, no footsteps, no excuses.
I gently closed the door behind me. Not a slam. Just one last, soft click.
The air was clear outside. I took a deep breath and let my lungs to burn from the cold. I went to the small coffee shop on the corner, which I frequently passed but hardly ever went inside.
It was like a haven that night.
“Hi, what would you like?” A waitress gave me a smile.
“Um… a cappuccino?” I answered.
The owner arrived at my window-facing table a few moments later.
It appears that you have been robbed of your breath. She answered, “You can stay as long as you like.” “I’ll send over some cake.”
I wrapped my hands around the cup’s warmth as I sat at the table. I just sat for the first time in what seemed like years. No lists were available for inspection. There is no waiting kitchen timer. Only mellow café tunes drifting across the air. Outside, the breeze caused the trees to gently swing.
I let out a breath inside.
I came back to pack a tiny overnight bag later that evening. I was heading to my folks. While I was at the coffee shop, we had already made the arrangements. The house now felt sterile and echoy, colder.
Like a child awaiting punishment, Aidan sat on the side of the bed with his shoulders hunched and his eyes locked on the floor.
His voice was sulky and low. “You ruined my birthday, Lacey,” he said. “Are you really not taking me with you?”
I didn’t roll my eyes or flinch. Calmly, I zipped my bag.
“No, Aidan,” was my response. “You worked alone to do that. And no. I’m going by myself. And I’ll keep working when I return.”
When I left, he didn’t follow.
I traveled to the Maldives by myself two days later.
My mother asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“I’m sure,” I smiled and answered. “I have to do this alone, but I’ll arrange a trip for you and Dad shortly. Lately, I’ve been living in the shadows. I have to come out into the light.
In the Maldives, the quiet was different. It didn’t weigh much. It was roomy. Even cleaning. The ocean curled around my ankles like a soft invitation as I strolled barefoot across limitless lengths of sand.
I allowed the sun to kiss areas of me that hadn’t felt light in months and allowed the salt to stick to my flesh.
In four days, I finished reading three books. At dawn, I went swimming. The final remnants of who I had been in that house were carried away by the air while I slept with the windows open.
I had a few more freckles, a tan, and no regrets when I returned.
Before I departed, I filed for a divorce, and my father gave me the paperwork the following morning.
It was a quick and strangely satisfying fallout. Of all people, Aidan’s mother was furious. She had trapped him in the kitchen as soon as I left, I found out later.
“She prepared food! She did the cleaning! She threw you a lovely party, and you humiliated her in that way!” My mother-in-law was mimicked by my mother.
A few days later, I caught up with a cousin. She had attended the party as well, and it seems that Aidan had rushed outside after me that evening, confused and in a panic. However, he was unaware of my direction.
“He stood on the sidewalk, Lacey, spinning in place like a child who’d lost his mother in a crowd,” she’d added while giggling.
That seems about right.
Looking back, I don’t regret or feel angry.
Just some clarity.
I miss the Aidan I believed to be out there. The version I adored. However, I am grateful to the version of myself that decided to leave before I fully vanished into his shadow.
And we never had kids, for which I am incredibly thankful. Because it’s difficult enough to raise a child. It shouldn’t be your responsibility to raise your spouse.
