But Robert never considered any of that work.
Whenever I asked for money to buy something for myself, he’d laugh.
“Money doesn’t grow on trees. Maybe you should try earning some.”
Even when our children visited, he humiliated me in front of them.
“Your mother has had a twenty-year vacation at my expense!”
Everyone laughed awkwardly.
I smiled, but inside, something broke a little more each time.
Last Sunday, during dinner, our daughter Emily asked why I never traveled or bought myself beautiful clothes.
Before I could answer, Robert laughed.
“Travel? With what money? She’s never earned a dollar in her life!”
Then he turned toward me.
“You should be grateful I kept you all these years. Without me, you’d have nothing.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I sat in our dark kitchen, staring at the family photographs on the wall.
Thirty-eight years of marriage. Two children. Thousands of meals. Countless sacrifices.