We stood in the bedroom, and Mitchell glared at me with that familiar anger in his eyes. The man I married, who once held me close and promised forever, now couldn’t even explain where he disappeared to all the time.

“Why can’t you even spend one evening with me?!” I shouted, my frustration boiling over. “Is it really that hard to be with your wife for just one night?”

“I’ve told you already! I have a lot of things to do!” Mitchell yelled back, his face red with anger.

“On a Sunday evening? What could possibly be more important than your own wife?”

“You want me to buy you everything, don’t you? You want us to go on vacations and live the high life, right?” he shot back.

“When was the last time you actually bought me something, Mitchell? I work every day and buy everything myself!” I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I…”

“No, those are just excuses! The real reason is you don’t want to spend time with me anymore, do you?”

“Maybe that’s true!” Mitchell finally shouted, his voice echoing in the room before he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

I sat on the bed and burst into tears. Eight years of marriage, gone just like that. It felt like everything we had built was crumbling before my eyes.

Everything changed just a few months ago, and I still don’t understand why. Before this, Mitchell was caring, loving, always there for me. But these last few months have been pure hell. We did nothing but argue, yell, and hurt each other. Could this really be the end of our marriage?

I wiped my tears, trying to gather my thoughts. I couldn’t believe it had come to this. I got up from the bed and walked over to the closet, thinking a walk might clear my head.

I started sorting through the clothes, pulling out my sweaters and dresses. Even Mitchell’s shirts, which I used to love folding, now felt like reminders of a life that was slipping away from me. Clothes hold so many memories—both good and bad.

As I reached for one of Mitchell’s jackets, a small box tumbled out and landed at my feet. My heart skipped a beat. I picked it up, opened it, and saw a stunning necklace inside.

A smile spread across my face, my tears forgotten for a moment. My birthday was just three days away, and I couldn’t believe Mitchell had planned something so thoughtful. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

I carefully placed the box back in the jacket, feeling my anxiety ease a little. Instead of going out, I decided to stay home and watch my favorite show, hoping that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

Finally, my birthday arrived, and I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. It was the day Mitchell would finally give me the necklace.

I had been waiting for this moment ever since I found that small box hidden in his jacket. To celebrate, I planned a dinner at a cozy restaurant with a small circle of close friends and family.

Everyone showed up on time, except for my younger sister, Carla. She was always late, but at least this time, she had the courtesy to warn me beforehand.

We all settled in, enjoying the appetizers, and the atmosphere was warm and lively. Then, Mitchell turned to me with a smile and said, “It’s time for your gift, Emily. I know you’ve been dreaming of this for a long time.” My heart skipped a beat. My friend even took out her phone to record the moment.

Mitchell brought out a box, but it was much larger than I expected. Confused, I thought maybe he was playing a joke or had included something extra along with the necklace.

With shaky hands, I began to unwrap the gift. But as soon as I saw what was inside, my excitement vanished. My heart shattered into tiny pieces.

“Well, take it out,” Mitchell said with a grin. “You’ve wanted this for so long.”

I reached into the box and pulled out a mixer. My smile was forced, my hands trembling slightly. A mixer? He gave me a mixer! And it wasn’t even a high-quality one—it was the cheapest kind, the kind that breaks after just a few uses.

My heart sank, and I felt a wave of anger rising inside me. How could he think this was something I would cherish? But I forced myself to keep smiling, trying not to make a scene.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carla. She stood by the table, grinning from ear to ear.

“Happy birthday, Emily!” she called out, handing me a gym membership gift certificate. I bit back my frustration. But the real blow came when I noticed the necklace around her neck—the same necklace I had found in Mitchell’s closet. My heart ached.

I hugged her, leaning in close to whisper in her ear, “Let’s step outside.”

Carla looked at me, confused, but she followed me outside anyway. Once we were alone, she asked, “Is everything okay?”

I took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eyes. “I know you’re sleeping with my husband,” I said, my voice firm.

Her eyes widened. “What…? How did you… I can explain…” Carla stammered, struggling to find the words.

“Don’t bother,” I interrupted. “I found the necklace in Mitchell’s jacket. At first, I thought he was going to give it to me for my birthday. But no, it wasn’t for me, was it?”

Carla let out a sigh, almost as if she felt relieved. “Well, I’m glad you finally found out. It was only a matter of time,” she said, her tone casual, as if we were talking about the weather.

I stared at her, shocked by her lack of shame. “That’s all you have to say? After I just found out you’re having an affair with my husband?”

“Oh, Emily, come on,” she replied with a shrug. “Mitchell loves me. He’s going to file for divorce soon so we can be together. You had to know this was coming.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though there was no humor in it. “And how exactly do you see this working out?”

Carla didn’t hesitate. “Well, you’ll move out, of course. Mitchell and I will live in his house. He’ll buy me whatever I want, and I’ll give him the children you couldn’t.”

Her words hit me hard. She knew I couldn’t have children, and she deliberately used that to hurt me. But she didn’t know everything. There was something that would change the whole picture.

“Alright, Carla,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “If that’s what you think. Just to clarify, though, are you still unemployed?”

“Yes, but Mitchell will take care of me, so it’s not an issue,” she replied, her voice full of smug confidence.

“Great,” I said with a smile. Without another word, I walked back inside, my mind made up. I grabbed the mixer, leaned in close to Mitchell, and whispered in his ear, “I’m filing for divorce.”

Fear immediately spread across Mitchell’s face as my words sank in. I turned and headed straight for the exit, feeling his eyes on me. I heard him move to follow, but Carla quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. I didn’t stop or look back.

As soon as I stepped outside, the cool air hit my face, giving me a moment of clarity. Without hesitation, I walked to the nearest trash can and threw the mixer away, not even glancing at it. I got into my car, started the engine, and drove home, leaving everything behind.

That evening opened my eyes to a truth I had been avoiding for far too long—I deserved so much more than what Mitchell had been giving me. He should have been the one fighting for my love, not the other way around.

But now, things were different. Now, he would regret how he treated me. After all, there was one small detail Carla didn’t know: Mitchell had been unemployed for over six months, and I had been the one supporting him.

Every bill paid, every meal on the table—that was all me. And the house? It was in my name. They couldn’t kick me out, but I could certainly kick them out.

I decided to take action. I gathered all of Mitchell’s belongings, every last item, and put them outside. Then, I made a sign that read “Free to Take.” Let that jerk see what it feels like to be discarded so easily.

After a while, I heard the sound of a car pulling up. Moments later, the door burst open, and Mitchell stormed in with Carla right behind him.

“Why are all my things outside?!” he shouted, his face flushed with anger.

“Because you don’t live here anymore!” I shouted back, standing firm.

“You can’t do this! This is Mitchell’s house!” Carla yelled, her voice high-pitched and panicked.

I looked at her, feeling a mix of anger and pity. “This is my house, you idiot. The mortgage, the bills, everything—it’s in my name. And you know what? You did me a favor by taking Mitchell off my hands. Now I won’t have to support him—or you, for that matter.”

Carla’s face twisted in confusion. “What? What are you talking about?”

I crossed my arms, feeling a surge of satisfaction. “Mitchell is unemployed. He has nothing. Absolutely nothing. All those gifts he’s been giving you? Bought with my money. Every single one.”

Carla’s confidence faltered. “No, no. That’s a lie. Mitchell, tell her it’s a lie,” she demanded, her voice shaking. But Mitchell stood there, silent, his eyes avoiding mine.

I took a step closer, my voice steady. “Now, get out of here before I call the police. My lawyer will send you the divorce papers.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Carla screamed, her voice full of desperation.

But Mitchell, finally realizing the truth of the situation, took her by the arm and led her toward the door. “Don’t make a scene unless you want the police to escort you out,” he muttered to Carla.

As they stepped outside, I walked to the window and watched them argue on the front lawn. A deep satisfaction settled over me, knowing they were both getting exactly what they deserved.