“Do you know how hurtful it is to feel invisible?
To realize that the person you trusted most doesn’t value you or your time? I’ve spent years putting everyone else first, and I’m tired. I deserve better.”
“Mom,” Ellie said softly, “when you put it that way… I remember how you used to make my favorite mac and cheese every time I was sad.
That wasn’t just food either, was it?”
Silence filled the line again before Ellie finally said, “I… I get it, Mom. I don’t like it, but I get it.”
“Me too,” Jonah muttered reluctantly. “Just… do what you need to do.”
A week later, I packed my bags.
“You’re leaving?” Randy asked, his voice laced with panic.
“Over this? Doris, please… we can work this out.”
“I’m done,” I said simply. “I deserve better.”
“What about everything we built?” he pleaded.
“Twenty-five years, Doris. You’re throwing that away over some leftovers?”
I turned to face him one last time. “No, Randy.
You threw it away. One container at a time. Oh, by the way, those weren’t LEFTOVERS.
They were tokens of my love and devotion. See you in court. Goodbye.”
Months passed, and I started to rebuild after the divorce.
Therapy. New hobbies. Long walks where I didn’t have to answer to anyone.
Then, one day, my phone buzzed with a message from May:
“Hey, Doris.
Just wanted you to know Randy asked me to help him with meals. At first, I said yes, but now I get it. He’s impossible.
Sorry for everything.”
I stared at the message for a long time before laughing. Of course Randy had roped her in. And of course she’d hit her limit too.
Now, I keep the video of May packing her pink tote bag as a reminder.
Every time doubt creeps in, and every time I wonder if I was too harsh or too quick to leave — I replay it. It’s a reminder that I deserve better.
Do you have any opinions on this?
