I Woke up to My Husband Saying: ‘Hush, She’s Sleeping’ — Story of the Day

I did everything possible for my spouse, yet he always seemed unsatisfied. One morning, I awoke to the sound of my husband speaking in the hallway, accompanied by a woman’s voice. "How could he?" I wondered. That was the final straw for me.

I work as a project manager at a bank, and our latest project has been the most challenging of all. I frequently arrived home late, and at times, I even had to work over the weekends. But my job is only a part of my hectic routine. I have a home and a husband to care for, and unfortunately, my dear husband is no longer as sweet as he once was. He avoids household chores, refuses to cook, and rarely does the grocery shopping. The majority of the responsibilities fall on me. Aiden never seemed to listen when I expressed my exhaustion. We had discussions about my demanding project and how overwhelmed I felt. One evening, I got home at 9 PM, and the first thing I heard was:

"Where were you?"

"I had a long day at work. I told you I’d be late..."

"No, you didn’t!"

"Yes, I did. Several times. It’s because of the project I’m handling..."

Aiden cut me off. "Whatever, Claire. I’m starving. Are you making dinner or not?" he asked, his eyes glued to the soccer game on TV.

"I don’t think we have much food left... We need to go shopping."

"I’ll wait here; you can go to the store," he said without even glancing at me. So, I grabbed my wallet and left.

As I walked to the store, my thoughts wandered. Aiden used to be caring and considerate; now he was an entitled man, never satisfied with anything. I felt like I had to tread carefully whenever I spoke to him.

"What took you so long? I’m starving!" Aiden complained when I returned. I rushed to the kitchen to prepare dinner. He ate in silence and returned to watching TV, leaving the mess for me to clean up.

Can he not even wash his own plate? I thought. I was too drained to argue, so I cleaned up and went straight to bed.

The next morning, I could barely stand. My throat ached, my nose was congested, and my head was pounding.

"You’re late... Where’s breakfast?" Those were the first words I heard from Aiden instead of a simple "good morning."

I forced myself into a hot shower and then made my way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. As I was still moving slowly, Aiden, already dressed to leave, said, "Never mind, you’re too slow. I’m going to be late," and slammed the door shut behind him.

I felt terrible, so I called in sick. I made some tea with honey and lemon and curled up in bed. As I sat there, I tried to recall when Aiden’s behavior had changed so drastically. He wasn’t always this way... but then I realized I couldn’t even remember the last time he had supported me, whether through actions or words. Even when he was in the wrong, he always found a way to blame me. I cried myself to sleep.

I was woken by voices in the hallway. Is he home? Why would he be back? Did he forget something?

"Get out, I think she’s here..." I heard Aiden whisper. "It won’t work today."

I got up, walked to the door, and quietly opened it. What I saw left me speechless—a stunning brunette standing in the hall.

"Darling," she said, "when will we see each other then?"

"This weekend. I’ll pick a fight with her, and we can go on a trip for two days," he responded.

"That sounds amazing!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around him.

"Shhh, be quiet...!"

I was in complete disbelief. They weren’t even trying to be discreet! I stepped back into my room, feeling like I was trapped in a nightmare. That was it. That man needed to be taught a lesson.

Something inside me shifted. What was I doing? Why was I allowing myself to be treated like this? The man who was supposed to love and cherish me...

I came up with a plan. As soon as Aiden left the house, I suddenly felt better. I called a locksmith to change the locks—after all, the apartment belonged to me.

Then I gathered all of his belongings, packed them into suitcases and boxes, and went through every room to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I wanted no trace of him in my home. I wanted no memory, no lingering presence. I needed him out of my life so I could move forward.

I spent almost the entire day packing his things. When he got home from work, he rang the doorbell.

"What happened to the lock? Why won’t my key work?" he asked.

"You didn’t even say hello!" I pointed out.

"What’s all this?" Aiden said, gesturing toward his packed belongings. "What’s going on, Claire?"

"This is your exit, Aiden. I’ve had enough. Take your things and go be with your mistress! I’m filing for divorce."

Aiden looked at me like I was a stranger. "Who is this woman? Where is the quiet wife who did everything I asked?" he must have been thinking.

"Aiden, I know everything. You don’t love me—you only use me. Get out, and don’t come back. I will never forgive you!"

He stared at me in shock. "Fine. I’m leaving, but you’ll regret this!" He hailed a cab, loaded his stuff, and disappeared.

The next day, I filed for divorce, and within a month, it was finalized. Aiden was in disbelief. He tried reaching out multiple times, but I refused to acknowledge him.

Since the day he left, I have felt like a different person. I am a new woman. I prioritize myself, I cherish my well-being, and I no longer tolerate disrespect from anyone. I started therapy, and my therapist is helping me heal from the wounds that toxic relationship left behind.

What can we take away from this story?

It’s never too late to walk away from a harmful relationship. It took Claire a while to realize she was trapped in an abusive and toxic dynamic. Aiden’s betrayal was the breaking point, and she finally chose to leave.

Always put yourself first. Claire had placed her marriage and an unworthy partner above herself. After the divorce, she learned to love and prioritize herself.

Share this story with your loved ones. It may bring comfort or even inspire them to take control of their own happiness. If you liked this story, you might be interested in one about a cruel stepmother who discarded a girl’s photo of her late mother, only for her father to remain silent.

This story is inspired by a reader’s experience and has been adapted by a professional writer. Names have been changed to maintain privacy. Share your own story with us—it could make a difference in someone’s life.