Careful What You Wish For: My Husband Wanted More Income — So I Gave Him a Reality Check

I came home bone-tired, my body heavy from a long shift. All I wanted was quiet, food, maybe just a moment to breathe. But laughter echoed from the garage—Mark and Greg again, beers in hand, still pretending to fix that car. Their carefree fun felt like a slap against my exhaustion.

Mark barely looked up. “Hey, babe. How was work?” I didn’t answer—just asked about the car. Greg joked about me working two jobs. Mark shrugged carelessly and said, “Could be a good idea.” And just like that, something inside me cracked.

A week later, I had a second job.

The house became a disaster zone. Laundry piled high, dishes rotting in the sink—and Mark, asking why dinner wasn’t made. I laughed—dry, hollow. “Then make it yourself,” I said, dropping my bag. Of course, he had “plans with Greg.”

Then one night, he came in with a smirk. “Mechanic shop hired us,” he said proudly. But I didn’t clap or smile. When he showed up to orientation two days later, he found me already there, sitting at the front of the room. I let the silence between us say what words never could.