It started like any other day—messy kitchen, cranky kids, and a Zoom meeting I could barely focus on. But that evening, everything changed.

My husband Eric, who “provides” but never parents, casually suggested having a third child over dinner. I was stunned. He never helped with Lily or Brandon, yet wanted to add more to my already overflowing plate.

When I pushed back, his mother and sister jumped in, calling me ungrateful and spoiled. Eric said nothing—just watched.

That night, he told me to leave. So I did.

But I didn’t take the kids. I told him to handle them if it was so “easy.” He panicked. Within weeks, I filed for divorce, got full custody, and he now pays child support.

I didn’t want to walk away. But choosing myself wasn’t selfish—it was survival. For the first time in years, I’m free. And I finally showed up for me.