My marriage to Logan was a mess. After five years together, the fairy-tale phase quickly faded. We struggled with infertility, and I sank into a depression. Instead of supporting me, Logan grew more distant, focusing on his gym workouts and fast cars.
One night, my friend Lola convinced me to go out. While we were at a jazz club, I saw Logan sitting with a young woman, flirting. I was furious, and when I confronted him, he calmly told me we were done and that he was in love with someone else.
The next morning, I went home to find all my things tossed out onto the lawn, with Logan and his new girlfriend smugly standing by. He told me to leave the house, claiming it belonged to his grandfather. As I packed, Logan’s grandfather, Mr. Duncan, arrived and witnessed the scene.
He was furious, telling Logan he was cut off from the family and that I would stay in the house. Mr. Duncan even offered to pay for IVF to help with our fertility struggles, which I had no idea he knew about.
Within days, my name was on the house deed, and Logan and Brenda were left with nothing. Logan came crawling back a week later, asking for help, but I refused. His regret wasn’t for how he treated me, just for losing his family’s support. It felt so satisfying to slam the door in his face.
Leave a Reply