My husband refused to get a job. I told him I needed stability and he told me to “make it happen.” I did. Covered 90% of our bills.I felt proud, until I realized he wasn’t even trying. He wasn’t “figuring things out,” like he promised. He was coasting, comfortably, on my exhaustion.At first, I didn’t notice. Or maybe I didn’t want to. He always had a reason—“I applied but didn’t hear back,” or “I’m working on a business idea.” But the weeks turned into months, and the only consistent thing about him was how long he could sleep in.
Meanwhile, I was up at 6 every morning. Teaching full-time at a local school, tutoring two kids in the evening, and running a small online shop on weekends. I was tired—bone tired—but I told myself it was temporary.That he just needed time. He always made it sound like he was just one idea away from changing our lives. He’d sketch logos on napkins, talk about starting a podcast, or creating an app that would “disrupt everything.” But when I’d ask for progress, there was nothing.
Just more talk. One day, I came home early. The kids were off for a holiday, and school let out at noon.I was excited to surprise him with lunch. I walked in and found him on the couch, not even pretending to be doing something productive. Just scrolling endlessly on his phone, a plate of crumbs beside him, and the living room a mess.I didn’t say anything. Just stood there. He looked up, surprised, then smirked.
A bowl of crackers on a kitchen counter | Source: Midjourney
“What, you done saving the world already?”
That moment shifted something in me. It wasn’t just laziness. It was disrespect.
Still, I tried. I sat him down that evening and told him we needed to talk. I told him I was drowning.
That I needed him to meet me halfway. He chuckled. “You’re doing great.
Why mess up the system?”
That night, I cried quietly into my pillow. Not because I was weak. But because I finally saw the truth—he liked things the way they were.
He had no intention of changing. The next morning, I made a decision. I stopped covering everything.
I paid only what was under my name—the rent, groceries, my phone bill. I left the electricity and internet under his. I didn’t announce it.
I just let the consequences unfold. At first, he didn’t notice. But when the Wi-Fi got cut off mid-livestream, he stormed into the kitchen, waving the bill like a flag.
“What’s going on?”
I shrugged. “Didn’t pay it. It’s under your name, remember?”
His face turned red.
“You can’t just—”
A smug older woman standing in a dining room | Source: Midjourney
“I did.”
For the first time, he didn’t have a comeback. He looked at me like I’d just betrayed some unspoken agreement. But I was done playing the fool.
He moped for a week. Then came back with a “plan.” Said he wanted to start a food truck, needed a small loan from me to get started. I asked for a proposal.
A breakdown. Something—anything—to show he’d thought this through. He scoffed.
“I’m your husband. You don’t trust me?”
I told him no, not with money. Not anymore.
That was the beginning of the end. He became distant. Passive-aggressive.
