The Scandal in the Kitchen: How Stuffed Cabbages Ruined a Marriage
Emily, weary and drained, trudged home from the supermarket, clutching two heavy bags. She staggered into the kitchen, dropped them onto the table, and slumped into a chair, gasping for breath. The evening air in the small town of Willowbrook clung damply to her skin, deepening her exhaustion.
“Hello, love, what’s for dinner?” called James, appearing in the doorway, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
“James, I’ve barely set foot inside,” Emily exhaled, her body stiff with tension. “I’m shattered.”
“Fancy making stuffed cabbages?” he suggested with a light smile, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
Emily lifted her eyes, pools of weariness and simmering frustration. She hesitated for a heartbeat, gathering herself, then blurted out—unexpected even to her:
“You know what, James? We should get a divorce.”
“What? Divorce? Where’s this coming from?” James froze, face slack with bewilderment.
“Because of your blasted stuffed cabbages!” Emily nearly shouted, her voice trembling.
“Because of stuffed cabbages?” James stared at her as if she’d lost her mind, unable to fathom the storm inside her.
10 Months Earlier
Reading Time: 5 Minutes
Source: Town Gossip
Fresh from their wedding, Emily and James sat down to discuss their household budget. They’d thought of everything to make life in Willowbrook harmonious.
“We’re adults, Em,” James declared confidently. “We’ll split everything down the middle—no arguments, no fuss.”
“I’m not sure, James,” Emily hesitated. “My ex-husband covered most expenses since he earned more.”
“And how well did that work out for your marriage?” James smirked sarcastically. “My ex-wife burned through money like wildfire—I could barely keep up. No, equal shares means equal shares.”
Emily had hoped they’d pool their earnings, drawing from a shared pot. But James’s mind worked in cold, calculated strokes.
“We split groceries and bills halfway,” he explained. “The rest goes into savings for emergencies. We could divvy up chores too, but let’s not nickle and dime each other.”
The arrangement chafed at Emily. It felt unfair, but she agreed, unwilling to start their marriage with a quarrel. Yet, as the plan took shape, her patience frayed. James adored hefty dinners—roasts, sausages, takeaways—and the budget he’d set devoured nearly half her wages. She, meanwhile, ate lightly: yoghurts, fruit, salads. Before, she’d spent far less on food. Now her money vanished like smoke.
“Strange setup you’ve got,” remarked her friend Sarah over tea. “You nibble on cheese and apples while he orders curries and grills steaks—but you pay the same?”
“I hate it too,” Emily admitted, fidgeting with the tablecloth. “But I agreed, and now I don’t know how to back out. He’s basically eating my wages and hoarding his.”
“Let him buy his own food,” Sarah suggested. “That’s only fair.”
Emily had thought the same, waiting for James to propose it himself. But he saw no issue.
“What’s the problem?” he’d ask whenever she broached the subject.
“The problem is half my salary vanishes into meals you choose!” she’d snap. “I can’t even afford new lipstick anymore.”
“That’s married life, Em—get used to it,” James would dismiss her.
“I imagined it differently,” Emily murmured. “My first marriage wasn’t like this.”
“Here we go—your saintly ex again!” James would explode. “If he was so perfect, why’d you split?”
“We divorced because he cheated, not over money,” she whispered, his words striking a raw nerve.
“No surprise,” James sneered. “Your cooking’s middling, the house is a tip, and all you do is whinge.”
The words stung. Emily wasn’t a flawless homemaker, but she tried—tidying, cooking daily. They’d never lived together before marriage—just dated for months, then rushed to wed. Long-distance romance had masked their gaps. Emily loved veggie bakes and omelettes; James demanded pies, Sunday roasts, and takeaway. She started cooking separately for him, squeezing time and money dry, while his jabs grew sharper.
“You’re nearly forty and moaning to your mum that I can’t roll cabbages?” Emily fumed.
“I’m not moaning, just sharing,” James retorted. “Mum’s a better cook—you could learn.”
Emily wouldn’t mind learning if she were hopeless. But she cooked well—just not to James’s obsessive standards. Each discussion spiralled into rows.
“Just admit you’re stingy with meat!” he’d shout. “I’m not asking for lobster—just a roast!”
“Look at the numbers,” she’d plead. “We’re burning through my wages—I can’t save for clothes!”
“Separate budgets, separate wardrobes, then,” James shrugged.
Emily’s patience wore thin. She started saving receipts, tallying a month’s spending before confronting him.
“Thirty percent of this is mine—the rest is yours,” she said. “If we share expenses, let’s split them fairly, by income.”
“Didn’t take you for such a penny-pincher,” James muttered. “No wonder your ex scarpered.”
“Yours didn’t leave for fun either,” Emily shot back. “At least I own my flaws—you’re always right!”
After that, days passed in icy silence.
“This can’t go on,” Emily finally said. “We’re a family—we need compromises.”
“You never respect my views,” James accused.
“Your views aren’t always fair,” she countered. “We started this all wrong.”
“Want me to foot everything? Not happening,” he snapped. “Deal with it.”
Emily endured months more before breaking. She realised she couldn’t keep feeding him, solving his problems. Groceries were split, yet emergencies—broken appliances—fell to her.
“It’s my flat, so repairs are on you,” James declared.
Emily paid for fixes, poured wages into food, then one day—snapped. This wasn’t the marriage she’d dreamed of: debts, his jabs, his mother’s sniping.
“Sorry, James, but I’m done,” she said after another row. “We need time apart to think.”
“Walking out?” James sneered. “Fine, but don’t expect handouts!”
Emily knew enough. She packed her things and left for her parents’. James never called. A month later, she filed for divorce. He didn’t object, soon replacing her with another woman. Emily didn’t rush into new love—she needed time to untangle her life, to find her way forward.
