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Seeing my husband roll up his sleeves, ready to hit me, I flipped the table and confronted him. "Robert, lay a hand on me, and I'll stab you!"
His eyes bulged, fists clenched, knuckles cracking.
Before we married, I'd told him if he ever hit me, I'd leave.
He'd sworn on his honor to treat me well.
Our son whined," Mom, Grandma worked hard on that food, and you wrecked it. You owe her an apology!"
He cared more for his grandma than for me.
I'd failed as a mother.
I fought back tears and headed to my room, but suddenly, someone yanked my hair.
Before I could react, I was thrown to the floor, my forehead smashing against the stone, pain searing.
Struggling up, I faced my furious husband, my indifferent in-laws, and son, realizing these thirteen years were for nothing.
Back in my room, I grabbed a suitcase and started packing.
Outside, the family grumbled about my" tantrum" while cleaning up the mess.
My mother-in-law and sister-in-law's voices drifted in.
"It's just insurance. What's with the fit? She's young, strong as an ox—why waste money? We old folks need it so we don't burden our son. Our grandson's a given—he's the family's future!"
"Mom, you're right! Even if she gets sick, my brother'd have to pay for a new wife. He'd be generous not to demand her parents cover it. You should've told her years ago her family should pay!"
"We figured it's less trouble to keep quiet. Who knew she'd find out after all these years?"
Fifty bucks a year,$500-$600 over a decade—they'd rather scheme to hide it than pay.
They always threw my lack of income in my face. Did I not want to work?
Before marriage, I was an elementary school teacher. After moving here, the school was too far, and pregnancy left me dehydrated from vomiting, so I had to quit.
The principal said I could return after childbirth. But with our son's health issues, and my in-laws always off playing cards, I never got the chance.
I worked hard in the fields and at home while they criticized my every move.
My husband had been decent to me, and with our son growing, I thought things were looking up.
Now, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my hopes.
As I packed, I noticed I hadn't bought new clothes in seven or eight years; the sleeves and elbows of my clothes were worn thin.
I gave a bitter laugh. What kind of life had I been living?
Pinching pennies, treated like a free maid.
I grabbed my suitcase and headed out.
My husband frowned." Always running to your parents! Mom and Dad were right—outsiders never align with the Thompson family. Skipping your insurance was smart—you're an ungrateful wolf, unworthy!"
"Me, always at my parents'? Have some shame! I go twice a year, max, and within three days, you're calling me back to serve your family! I'm done serving!"
I flung the signed divorce agreement in his face.
My mother-in-law snatched it, scanning it, shrieking, Half the assets? Greedy much? Who gave you the nerve? You earn nothing and dare demand money?"
"Half's my right! Don't like it? See you in court. Old lady, didn't you say the Thompsons don't divorce? I'm breaking that tradition!"
I turned to our son.
"Your dad and I are divorcing. Who do you want to stay with?"
For him, I'd swallowed every grievance.
I'd considered divorce but couldn't bear leaving him when he was so young.
Now, I was done.
"Mom, divorcing Dad over $50 insurance? You're so overreacting!"
Overreacting?
That's how my son saw me.
The boy I raised through sweat and tears couldn't see my pain, calling me dramatic!
"You think it's fine for your dad to give all our savings to your aunt?"
"No problem! Family helps family. We won't starve. Dad's still working!"
"If you divorce Dad, I'm staying with him! Grandpa and Grandma are nice, Dad buys me toys, doesn't force me to study. I love them. I hate you!"
Only now did I learn my son hated me.
Because I was strict about his studies and spending, he thought his grandparents and dad loved him, but I didn't.
His words stabbed my heart like a knife.
I grabbed the divorce agreement from my mother-in-law, trembling as I scratched out the line claiming custody of our son.
