“Her sister,” she replied with a sweet smile.
“And you guys need to calm down. Otherwise, I can call the authorities.
Brianna’s face twisted with rage, and I braced myself for the onslaught of insults. Sure enough, she launched into a tirade about how I was “ruining” her son’s life, how I was a bad wife, and how my kids would grow up hating me.
But I didn’t flinch.
They finally left a few minutes later, slamming the door behind them.
Later that day, Eric came home.
I heard his footsteps before I saw him, and I could feel the tension as he stepped into the kitchen.
“So,” he began, his voice cold, “you insulted my mother and sister?”
I folded my arms. “I didn’t insult anyone. I told them they had no right to interfere in our marriage.”
Eric’s expression darkened.
“You don’t love me. You don’t love the kids. You’ve changed.”
“I haven’t changed, Eric.
I’ve grown up. There’s a difference.”
Our argument spiraled, going in circles until he finally exploded.
“Pack your things and leave,” he demanded, pointing to the door. “I can’t live with you anymore.”
I was stunned, but I didn’t argue.
I packed my bags and stood at the door, ready to leave. But before I stepped out, I turned to him one last time.
“The kids are staying here,” I said. “Whichever parent stays in this house will be responsible for them.
They’re not going anywhere.”
“Wait… what?” he asked. “That’s not happening.”
“You heard me,” I said calmly. “You wanted me gone, fine.
But the kids stay.”
Then, I walked out with my sister without listening to anything else Eric had to say.
He tried calling me later, but it was too late.
Ultimately, Eric refused to take custody of the kids, and I filed for divorce.
In the end, I kept the house, got full custody, and received substantial child support payments. I’m glad I stood up for myself before it was too late. Do you think I did the right thing?
Or did I go too far?
