My Husband Avoided Traveling with Me for 17 Years — I Came Back from Holiday Early to Learn Why
Lauren had always thought her husband simply had a distaste for travel, but this year, his behavior left her more perplexed than ever. When a family vacation brought years of unspoken tension to a head, she resolved to get to the bottom of it—only to discover far more than she could have anticipated.
I lounged on the couch, scrolling through pictures from last year’s family getaway—just me, my parents, and my siblings. My boys didn’t appear in any of them. Mike had always insisted they stay home with him.
Ethan climbed onto my lap, his curious eyes scanning the screen. “Mom, can we go to the beach this summer? Please?”
“Yes, let’s go!” Ben chimed in from the floor, where he was immersed in building a Lego masterpiece. “Like, a real beach. Uncle Tim said Hawaii has beaches with black sand!”
I smiled, planting a kiss on Ethan’s head. “We’ll see.”
Planning a vacation was always a double-edged sword. I adored the excitement, the sunshine, and the memories I created with my family. But every time for the past 17 years, the weight of leaving Mike and the boys behind cast a shadow over my plans.
“Why don’t we ever go, Mom?” Ben asked, his tone careful. “Dad says trips are only for grown-ups.”
“That’s not true,” I replied gently, though my chest tightened.
“But he never lets us go,” Ethan added.
“He just…” I paused, searching for the right words. “Your dad’s not a big fan of traveling. But we’ll figure something out.”
The truth was more complicated. Mike didn’t just dislike travel—he resisted it outright. Whenever I brought up a family trip, he dismissed the idea with vague reasons.
“It’s too expensive.”
“The boys won’t remember it; they’re too young.”
“It’s better if they stay here with me.”
Over time, I gave up asking. It felt pointless to argue.
A few weeks later, my mom called with a mix of excitement and hesitation in her voice.
“Lauren, I’ve been thinking… I want to take the whole family to the Virgin Islands this summer. One last big trip while I still can. The kids should come too.”
The Virgin Islands. Her favorite destination. She and Dad had vacationed there regularly until his passing. This wasn’t just a trip for her—it was a chance to create lasting memories with her grandchildren.
“Mom, that sounds perfect,” I said. “I’ll talk to Mike.”
“Don’t let him stop you,” she urged gently. “The boys deserve this, and so do you.”
That evening, I broached the subject while Mike and I cleaned up after dinner.
“Mom wants us to go to the Virgin Islands this summer,” I said.
He didn’t lift his gaze from the plate he was drying. “That’s a long way.”
“It’s her favorite place. She’s been dreaming of taking the boys there for years. This might be her last opportunity to do it.”
He sighed. “And when the boys get bored or tired, who’s going to handle that?”
“They’re old enough to enjoy a vacation, Mike,” I said firmly. “And they’ve been begging to go somewhere new for ages.”
“Then take them.”
I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “You’re okay with me taking the boys?”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll consider going, too.”
For a brief moment, I clung to hope. Maybe this time Mike would surprise me. But when I mentioned the flights, his reaction was immediate and severe.
“I didn’t realize flying was involved,” he said, his tone strained.
“It’s the Virgin Islands, Mike. Of course, we have to fly.”
“I’m not comfortable with that,” he muttered, gripping the counter.
“It’s one flight,” I said, my frustration mounting. “You’ll be fine.”
“I said no, Lauren,” he snapped, turning away.
This time, I refused to let his resistance hold us back. I booked the tickets for myself and the boys.
When I shared the news, their excitement was uncontainable.
“We’re really going?” Ben’s eyes sparkled with disbelief.
“Really?” Ethan squealed, bouncing on the couch.
“Yes,” I said, grinning. “We’re really going.”
The flight was an adventure for the boys, who peppered me with endless questions. “How high do planes go?” Ben asked. “Do pilots ever get lost?” Ethan chimed in. Their enthusiasm made me laugh as I did my best to answer.
When we landed in the Virgin Islands, the boys sprinted to the beach, their laughter echoing across the shore. My mom enveloped me in a hug.
“I’m so glad you brought them,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
“Me too,” I admitted, watching my sons chase each other along the sand.
Our days were a whirlwind of sandcastle-building, snorkeling, and family dinners brimming with laughter. But at night, after the boys were tucked in, a nagging unease crept over me.
Mike’s phone calls were brief, his tone distracted.
“Everything okay at home?” I asked one evening.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just busy.”
“Busy with what?”
“Work. Stuff.”
His vague replies left my stomach in knots. After hanging up, I stared at the moonlit ocean, the distance between us weighing heavily on my heart.
The boys were fast asleep when I made my decision. Standing on the balcony, the rhythmic crash of waves below, I dialed my mom.
“I think I need to come home early,” I said, gazing into the darkness.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, her concern evident.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Mike’s been acting strange, and I can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong.”
“You’ve done the right thing bringing the boys,” she assured me. “They’re having the time of their lives. Go take care of what you need to.”
On the flight home, my thoughts swirled with worry. I replayed every tense moment, every dismissive excuse, and the growing silence between us. Had I overlooked something deeper? Or were we simply drifting apart?
When I walked through the front door, I froze.
Mike was sitting on the couch with a woman I didn’t recognize. She looked startled but said nothing.
“What’s going on?” I demanded, my voice sharp.
Mike stood, his face pale. “Lauren, this isn’t—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, my chest heaving. “I leave for one week, and this is what I come home to?”
“It’s not what it looks like!” he protested.
“Then explain!” I shot back.
The woman finally spoke. “I think I should leave.”
“No,” Mike said firmly. “Stay. Lauren, this is Dr. Keller—my therapist.”
I blinked, stunned. “Your… therapist?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice trembling. “Let me explain.”
As Mike opened up about his long-hidden fear of flying and his therapy journey, I felt a mix of anger, compassion, and relief. His vulnerability was a first step toward rebuilding what we had lost.
By the next morning, we were sitting together, planning our first trip as a family of four. For the first time in years, it felt like we were moving forward—together.
