“If Mum doesnt live with us, Ill divorce you!” And he did
“If you wont let my mother stay with usIm filing for divorce.” And he did.
A man who swears love and loyalty can become a stranger in an instant. Especially when youre forced to choosekeeping your family together or saving yourself from ruin. Ive lived through it.
When I married Oliver, we didnt have our own place. We lived with his parents in a cramped two-bedroom flat. It was tight but manageableuntil one day, his stepfather came home and found his wife, Margaret, with a lover. Younger, bolder, full of promises about “new horizons” and “streets paved with gold.” But he had one condition: “Sell the flat. Were moving to another citystarting fresh.”
We tried to reason with her: “Hes fooling you. Youll end up with nothing.” But she brushed us off: “Youre just jealous. Stay out of it.”
A week later, we were on the street with our baby in my arms. The flat was sold, and we were thrown out. Oliver took on two jobs, while I worked freelance at night between caring for our child. We barely scraped by on rent, but we pushed throughfor the future.
We planned to get a mortgage, but fate intervened when my childless aunt passed away, leaving me her spacious flat in another town. Sunlit, with windows overlooking a quiet garden. With our savings, we fixed it up. For the first time in years, I breathed easy.
But peace didnt last.
One evening, as I washed dishes after dinner, there was a knock at the door. There stood Margarether face swollen from crying, eyes like a wounded dogs. “Love Oliver he kicked me out. Everythings gone. All I have is this suitcase. Please help me.”
Oliver and I exchanged glances. I saw his face soften. He took her by the shoulders, sat her at the kitchen table, and poured her tea. Meanwhile, I stood there, my chest tight with quiet fury. Id warned her, begged her not to be reckless. Yet shed tossed us out without a second thoughteven when we were struggling.
Oliver turned to me. “She cant be on her own. We cant abandon her. Shes my mother.”
I pressed my lips together. “She threw us away like rubbish. And now you want her here? In this flat, where weve finally found peace?”
Margaret whimpered, “Oliver, I cant sleep on the streets Please Ive learned my lesson.”
Then he said the words that shattered me: “If you wont let Mum stay, I want a divorce.”
For a moment, the world went dark. But my voice stayed steady, even as my heart bled. “Then divorce it is. Because I wont live with someone who makes love conditional.”
Sometimes, the hardest choice is walking awaybut self-respect is never negotiable.
