My Husband Left Me When I Refused to Move Across the Country for His Dream Job – a Year Later, He Knocked on My Door #6

Stan and I had known each other since high school. He sat behind me in algebra, a fact I was reminded of daily when he’d kick my chair, over and over, until I finally turned around.

“You are such a persistent little bug,” I snapped.

Instead of looking hurt, his eyes lit up. “You noticed! I was starting to think I was invisible.”

That was how it started between us. The teasing turned into study dates, which turned into real dates, and by senior year, we were inseparable.

We were that couple — the one people pointed to when they talked about high school sweethearts who actually made it.

We got married days after we both graduated from college. No big ceremony, no fuss. Just us, and the absolute certainty that our love was enough.

For four years, it seemed like it was.

We built a life, but beneath the surface, cracks were forming.

Looking back, I can see them now — the way Stan would sigh when I talked about visiting my parents for Sunday dinner, how his eyes wandered whenever someone mentioned adventure or travel.

I just didn’t want to see it. Until I couldn’t avoid it anymore.

“You’re holding me back,” Stan announced one night over the takeout containers I’d just set on the table.

“Excuse me?” I set down my fork, certain I’d misheard.

“I got offered a job in Seattle. Senior VP of Business Development. It’s perfect, Rachel. It’s everything I’ve been working for.” He reached for my hand across the table. “If you love me, you’ll come with me.”

I pulled away, my chest tight. “My parents are here. My dad’s starting to forget things — just little things, but still. And Mom’s heart medication… she asked me how to refill it three times last week.”

“So that’s your answer? Your parents matter more than our future?”

“That’s not fair. It’s not ‘either, or.'”

“It is, though.” Stan pushed his plate away.

“The job starts in three weeks. I need to know if you’re with me or not.”

I stared at him, this man I thought I knew better than anyone. “You’re actually asking me to choose?”

“I guess I am.”

I said no, and Stan filed for divorce and left me. He took his year-end bonus and cashed out our joint savings account, leaving me with exactly $173.42.

Enough, I suppose, to order pizza while I figured out how to pay next month’s rent alone.

And it wasn’t just a new city and a new job. Within weeks, his social media showed a new girlfriend, too.

The divorce was ugly and painful. Stan wanted to keep everything, except for me and Max, the rescue dog we’d picked out together at the shelter.

But I got through it. Life didn’t freeze for me, even though sometimes I wanted it to.

I picked up freelance work alongside my day job to make ends meet, and I looked after my parents.

I stopped keeping up with Stan’s life on social media and eventually stopped thinking about him at all.

Which is why, when I heard a knock on my door last Wednesday evening during a spring rainstorm, I was completely unprepared for what waited on the other side.

Stan stood on my porch, suitcase in hand, rain dripping from his hair.

He looked older and thinner, but with that same crooked smile that once made my heart race.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, swagger intact despite the soaked clothes. “You always knew I’d come back. And this time…”

Stan broke off, his eyes widening as he looked past me, into the house.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

I couldn’t find words for several seconds, my past and present colliding with such force I felt dizzy. I glanced over my shoulder at Max, who was rolling on the carpet, drinking up the attention of a tall, broad-shouldered man.

He glanced up at me, and it was exactly what I needed to steady my racing heart.

I smiled, the kind of smile that comes from genuine happiness rather than spite. “Oh, that’s James. My husband.”

Stan reeled back like I’d slapped him. “Your what?”

“My husband,” I repeated.

“Your… you got remarried?”

“About eight months ago. Why is that surprising? You’d barely arrived in Seattle and your Facebook was full of you and that blond woman.” I tipped my head to one side.

“That… she was just, uh… it didn’t work out between us.” Stan avoided my gaze. “She wasn’t in it for the long haul.”

“Imagine that,” I replied. “What are you doing here, Stan?”

“Seattle didn’t work out. The company downsized.” He shrugged. “I came back here because I was hoping… Rachel, can we just talk? Maybe get dinner? I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and—”

“Is everything okay here?” James appeared at my shoulder. “Hey, Stan, was it? Long time, no see.”

Stan’s jaw dropped. “Do I know you?”

James smiled. “Not really, but I’m a little surprised you don’t remember me.”

“Same here,” I remarked, “especially after the things he said to you outside the courthouse.” I turned back to Stan then, ready to deliver the bombshell that would rock his world. “There’s a funny story about how James and I met, and none of it would’ve been possible without you.”

“See, James was my divorce attorney,” I continued. “The one you called a… what was it, honey?” I turned to James.

“‘A blood-sucking leech who enjoyed ruining people’s lives,'” James said with a smile.

“That’s right.” I turned back to Stan. “He’s the one who found that hidden account in the Caymans you thought no one knew about.”

Stan paled.

“Between that and your breach of fiduciary duty with the savings withdrawal… well, the judge was quite sympathetic in his ruling, as you know.”

“That money was for my fresh start,” Stan mumbled weakly.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, James and I used it for our fresh start.” I gestured vaguely toward our home. “The kitchen remodel looks amazing. And we started a nonprofit for abandoned seniors, which is really taking off.”

Max whined at my feet, sensing the tension. Behind him, James hung back, respecting my space but present if I needed him.

Then Stan said something that caught me off guard.

“I’m sorry for all of that, Rach, I really am. What I did was wrong, and I know that now. I guess it might be hard for you to believe, but I never stopped thinking about you. We could try again,” Stan said, his voice dropping to that intimate tone that once made me feel like the only person in his world. “We have history, Rachel. That means something.”

“You’re still a persistent little bug,” aren’t you?” I remarked with a sigh.

I stepped outside then, pulling the door partway closed behind me. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but Stan still looked pathetic, standing there wet and hopeful.

“I swear, things will be different this time. If you’ll just give us another chance, I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life making it up to you. I’ll—”

“That’s enough, Stan.” I raised my hand.

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s more fairness than you deserve,” I retorted. I reached into my pocket and pulled out one of my business cards, scribbling an address on the back.

“There’s a decent motel about two miles down the road. They have a diner attached,” I said, handing him the card.

He took the card automatically, staring at it with confusion.

“Try the chicken pot pie,” I added as I stepped back inside. “It tastes like regret.”

I shut the door firmly, leaning against it for a moment as the past year of my life without Stan flashed through my mind.

The hiking trips James and I took with Max, and the nights we spent reading in companionable silence. The way he brought me coffee every morning without being asked.

James stood in the living room, giving me space but present.

“You okay?” he asked simply.

I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around his solid frame, breathing in the familiar scent of his aftershave.

“Better than okay,” I answered truthfully. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Outside, I heard a car start and drive away. Stan — the persistent little bug who had once been my whole world — disappeared back into the rain.

I didn’t look back. After all, everything that mattered was in front of me.