“Buy Your Own Groceries and Cook for Yourself. I Can’t Support You Anymore”: I Told My Husband

Eva had always been the quiet type, the kind of person who preferred to listen rather than speak. Her husband, Jeffrey, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Outgoing and often carefree, he had a way of shrugging off responsibilities that Eva increasingly found frustrating.

Their marriage, once filled with shared dreams and mutual support, had begun to show cracks after Jeffrey lost his job at a marketing firm. At first, Eva was understanding. She took on extra shifts at the hospital where she worked as a nurse, believing it was a temporary setback. But months turned into a year, and Jeffrey’s efforts to find a new job were sporadic at best.

The tension came to a head one chilly evening in November. Eva had just returned from a grueling 12-hour shift. The house was a mess, dishes piled up in the sink, and Jeffrey was on the couch playing video games.

“Jeffrey, we need to talk,” Eva said, her voice steady despite the fatigue pulling at her limbs.

“Sure, babe, what’s up?” Jeffrey responded, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“It’s about this situation,” Eva began, gesturing around the disheveled room. “I can’t keep working this hard and come home to… this. And it’s not just about the housework.”

Jeffrey paused his game and turned to face her, sensing the seriousness in her tone.

“I know, I know. I should be doing more. I’m trying, Eva,” he said, his voice a mixture of frustration and guilt.

Eva sighed, a sound heavy with exhaustion. “Trying isn’t enough anymore, Jeffrey. I need you to start buying your own groceries and cooking for yourself. I can’t keep supporting us both, not like this.”

Jeffrey’s face fell. “Are you saying you want me to move out?”

“No, I’m not saying that. I just… I need you to contribute more. It’s too much for me,” Eva replied, her voice cracking slightly.

The room fell silent, the tension thick. Jeffrey looked down, nodding slowly. “Okay, I get it. I’ll do better. I promise.”

But promises were easy to make and hard to keep. The following weeks saw little change in their routine. Jeffrey made a few half-hearted attempts at job hunting and housekeeping, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it.

One evening, as Eva prepared dinner after yet another long day, she realized she couldn’t do it anymore. The strain of carrying them both was too much. She turned off the stove, sat down across from where Jeffrey was once again engrossed in his game, and said, “I can’t do this anymore, Jeffrey.”

Jeffrey looked up, surprise etching his features. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m done. I can’t support you anymore. I can’t be in this marriage,” Eva said, her decision clear and final.

Jeffrey stood up, his expression one of disbelief. “Eva, please, I can—”

“It’s too late, Jeffrey. I’m sorry.” Eva interrupted, her mind made up.

The next day, Eva left the house they had shared for eight years. The divorce papers were filed within the week. Jeffrey, now truly alone, realized too late the cost of his inaction.