“NO! I’m not! Do you want to know why I’m leaving you, Zack? When you say you ‘did nothing’ — that’s exactly the problem. You did nothing.”
He stared at me like I’d spoken another language.
“You never cheated,” I continued. “You never drank. You never gambled. You never hit me. Congratulations. You met the bare minimum.”
“That’s not fair—”
“For thirty years,” I cut in, my voice steady, “I cooked every meal. I scheduled every appointment. I wrapped every Christmas gift. I remembered your mother’s birthday. I sat alone at school plays because you were ‘busy.’ I begged you to go to counseling. I asked you to talk to me. To see me.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
“You didn’t cheat,” I said softly. “But you were never really with me either. You lived in this house like a polite roommate. You let me carry the weight of our life while you floated through it.”
“I worked hard for this family!”
“I know you did. And I’m grateful. But money isn’t intimacy. Paying bills isn’t partnership. I didn’t want a sponsor, Zack. I wanted a husband.”
Silence filled the room.
“Do you remember our 25th anniversary?” I asked.
“Of course I do.”
“You forgot. I made reservations. I bought my own flowers so the hostess wouldn’t look at me with pity when you didn’t show.”
His face drained of color.
“You didn’t do anything terrible,” I said. “You just didn’t do anything at all. And after thirty years of feeling alone next to someone… I finally realized I’d rather actually be alone.”
His voice cracked. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”
“I did. A hundred times. You said I was overreacting. Sensitive. Dramatic.” I picked up my bag. “I stopped fighting when I realized I was the only one fighting.”
Tears welled in his eyes. “Is there someone else?”
“Yes,” I said gently. “There’s me.”
I walked to the door, pausing just long enough to look back.
“I’m not leaving because you were the worst husband,” I said. “I’m leaving because you were just barely one.”
And for the first time in thirty years, I chose myself.
