I did everything I could for my husband, Aiden.

Between long hours at my job as a project manager and managing our home alone, I was exhausted.

He never helped — not with the cooking, the cleaning, or even a kind word.

No matter what I did, he always seemed dissatisfied.

One night, I came home late from work and he snapped at me:

“Where have you been?” “I told you —

I had a long day,”

I replied. “Whatever. I’m hungry.

Make dinner,” he said, eyes still glued to the TV.

I was too tired to argue. That night, I cried myself to sleep.The next morning, sick and drained, I stayed home

. That’s when I heard voices in the hallway — Aiden and a woman.

“Get out, I think she’s home,” he whispered. “

When will we meet?” she asked. “

Weekend. I’ll pick a fight and we’ll leave for two days,” he said, as she giggled and hugged him. I stood frozen.

He brought another woman into our home and didn’t even try to hide it. That was it.

Once he left, I called a locksmith, changed the locks, and packed all his belongings.

I cleaned the house of everything that reminded me of him. When he returned and found his keys no longer worked, he was furious. “

What’s going on, Claire?” he asked. “

This is your goodbye, Aiden. I know everything. You don’t love me — you used me. Go to your mistress. I’m done.”

He stood there stunned, like he didn’t recognize me. But I finally recognized myself.