“He really said, ‘Why would I pay for that?’ 🚩 My husband thinks because I work from home, I don’t need childcare—even though I’m drowning trying to balance a full-time job and a toddler. He actually accused me of wanting to ‘dump’ our son. The audacity is unmatched. 😤👇”

Based on the text in the image, here is a complete story that picks up exactly where the post cuts off and carries it through to a resolution.

The rest of the story:

…while you type. It’s not like you’re digging ditches.”

I stared at him, stunned silence ringing in my ears. The audacity was suffocating. I tried to keep my voice steady. “Medical billing isn’t just typing, Kyle. It requires focus, precision, and privacy regarding patient data. One wrong code can cause insurance denials and jeopardize my employment. I can’t do that while stopping a toddler from climbing the bookshelves.”

He just rolled his eyes and turned the TV volume up. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

The breaking point came three days later.

I was on a mandatory compliance Zoom call with my supervisor and two other department heads. It was a high-stakes meeting. Mason, who is usually good at playing quietly for short bursts, decided this was the moment to have a meltdown because I wouldn’t let him bring his juice box near my laptop.

He screamed. He threw a toy car that hit my screen. My supervisor paused, looked at me through the camera with a tight, pitying smile, and said, “We need a professional environment to discuss these audits. Let’s reschedule when you’re… alone.”

The screen went black. My face burned with humiliation. My career was on the line because my husband thought my job was a hobby.

That Saturday, I woke up early. Kyle was off work and snoring peacefully. I showered, dressed in actual business clothes, and grabbed my laptop bag and car keys.

“Where are you going?” Kyle asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes as I stood in the doorway.

“The internet is down,” I lied smoothly. “I have to go to the library to catch up on the work I missed during the week. Mason is awake. He’s all yours.”

“Wait, what? I wanted to relax today. I had a long week,” he started to protest, sitting up.

“So did I,” I said, my hand on the doorknob. “There’s mac and cheese in the pantry. Good luck. See you at 5.”

I walked out the door before he could argue. I didn’t go to the library. I went to a hotel a few towns over, booked a day rate, and sat in a quiet room with room service. I worked for four hours in blissful silence, then I took a two-hour nap.

When I returned at 5:00 PM, the house was a disaster zone.

It looked like a tornado had touched down in the living room. Toys were scattered in every corner. There was a sticky red stain on the carpet that looked suspiciously like fruit punch. Kyle was sitting on the floor, looking disheveled and exhausted, while Mason watched cartoons—the exact thing Kyle had accused me of “dumping” him to do.

Kyle looked up at me. He looked like he had survived a war.

“He doesn’t stop,” Kyle said, his voice hoarse. “I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without him banging on the door. I tried to look up a score on my phone and he threw a tantrum. How do you get anything done? How do you concentrate?”

“I don’t,” I said simply, stepping over a pile of Legos. “That’s the point. I’m trying to do two full-time jobs at once, Kyle. And I’m done.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the daycare enrollment papers. “I already paid the deposit this morning. Mason starts Monday. It’s strictly educational with supervised play—not ‘dumping’ him. It’s $900 a month. Your share is $450.”

I locked eyes with him. “You can transfer it to me tonight. Or, if you prefer, you can take over full childcare duties every single evening and all weekend long so I can make up my hours without interruption. Which is it?”

Kyle looked at Mason, then at the mess he had failed to contain, and finally at me. He realized that for three years, my “working from home” had been a magic trick he had taken for granted.

He pulled out his phone. A minute later, I heard the ping of a notification: Kyle sent $450.00.

“It won’t happen again,” he mumbled, getting up to start cleaning the juice stain. “I didn’t get it. I’m sorry.”

Mason starts daycare tomorrow. He’s excited to make friends. I’m excited to be an employee again. And Kyle? He’s learned that just because I’m home, doesn’t mean I’m available.