Marriage is supposed to be a partnership, but for ten years, I carried the weight alone. I met Daniel in college—he wasn’t rich, but his charm made me believe in him. I came from a wealthy family but vowed never to rely on them, so I started my own business after graduation, paying for everything—rent, bills, groceries. Daniel said it made sense since I earned more, but deep down, I knew something was off.
When I got pregnant with Oliver, Daniel was excited, but when it came to diapers, sleepless nights, and hospital bills, it was all me. I kept hoping he’d step up, but he didn’t. When I found out I was pregnant again, Daniel’s response was, “I think I need a break from work. I’m burned out.”
He’d disappear for hours, leaving me with all the responsibilities. The only ones who supported me were my dad and my best friend, Ava. But even Ava let me down when I needed her most. When Emma was born, Daniel didn’t show up. Ava apologized, but her excuses didn’t ease my pain.
At home, things didn’t change. Daniel was still absent, and I was running on empty. One night, I confronted him—“I need a partner, not a third child.” He shrugged it off, promising to look for a job. The next morning, I found a text from Ava on his phone, revealing she was pregnant and he’d been cheating on me with her.
I left that day, and my mother suggested Daniel could have custody of the kids. But when I learned she’d made a deal with Ava for full custody, I realized she too had betrayed me. My father sided with me, and my mother was kicked out of the house.
I filed for divorce, and Daniel didn’t fight it. I got full custody of my kids and walked away with everything I had worked for. Two months later, the divorce was finalized. I moved into a small place with my kids, and for the first time in years, I felt peace and strength again.
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