My trust in Alex was gone, but I wasn’t about to let him or Diane dictate my life. I made a decision then and there: I wouldn’t fight, argue, or beg. I’d make my own plans.
I heard Alex pacing in the hallway, probably wondering if he should try to explain. Finally, he cracked open the door. “Jen?
Are you awake?”
I didn’t answer, but my quiet sobs gave me away. “Look, I’m sorry about dinner,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Mom shouldn’t have said anything.”
I turned to face him.
“That’s what you’re sorry about? That she told me the truth?”
His silence was all the answer I needed. Over the next ten years, Alex worked tirelessly to pay off the mortgage on the house he claimed was “ours.” He often bragged about his accomplishments, conveniently forgetting how much of the emotional and physical load I carried in the background.
“Another payment done!” he’d announce proudly at dinner. “Just a few more months, and this place is ours!”
I’d smile tightly, knowing the lie in that so-called “ours.”
Two weeks after Alex made the final payment, KARMA CAME KNOCKING. It was a Friday evening, and we were sitting in the living room when Alex’s phone buzzed.
The caller ID read ‘Mom.’ He answered, putting the call on speakerphone. “Alex,” Diane began in her usual no-nonsense tone, “you need to start packing.”
Alex frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve decided to give the house to your sister,” Diane said matter-of-factly.
“She just turned 18, and she needs a place to live. I’ve already signed it over to her.”
“What?” Alex shot up from the couch, his face reddening. “Mom, you can’t be serious.
I just finished paying off the mortgage!”
Diane’s tone remained calm, almost bored. “And I’m grateful for that, dear. But it’s in my name, isn’t it?
That makes it MY HOUSE. Your sister needs it more than you do.”
Alex sputtered. “I PAID for that house!
You can’t just take it!”
“Watch me,” Diane replied coolly. “Now, I suggest you start packing. Your sister will need the place soon.”
“Mom, please,” Alex begged.
“This is my house. My children grew up here. You can’t just —”
“Can’t I?” Diane interrupted.
“Wasn’t that the whole point, Alex? Having it in my name meant I could do whatever I wanted with it. Isn’t that what you wanted?
You’ve got two days. Start packing!”
When the call ended, Alex turned to me, panic written all over his face. “What are we going to do?
Where will we go?”
I took a deep breath, the moment I’d been preparing for finally here. “We aren’t going anywhere,” I said calmly. “The kids and I already have a place.”
His jaw dropped.
“What? What do you mean?”
I told him how with my mom’s help, I had secured a small apartment in her name. I worked hard at my part-time job, saving every penny I could.
Slowly but surely, I built a safety net for myself and the kids over the years — all without him knowing. “You… you planned this?” he stammered. “Of course I did!
You showed me who you were the day you put that house in Diane’s name. I knew I couldn’t rely on you, so I made sure I’d never have to. The difference between your mother and mine?
I can trust mine.”
He collapsed onto the couch, head in his hands. “Jen, please… I was stupid. I was wrong.
We can fix this together.”
I stood up, straightening my shoulders. “No, Alex. You didn’t trust me enough to be your partner then.
I don’t trust you enough to be mine now.”
“What about the kids? What about our family?”
“Our family?” I laughed bitterly. “You destroyed that the moment you chose your mother over your wife.
The moment you decided I wasn’t worth trusting.”
The next day, I filed for divorce. Alex begged me to reconsider, swearing he’d make things right, but I was done. The kids and I moved into our new apartment, and for the first time in years, I felt free.
“Mom,” Tommy asked as we unpacked in our new home, “are you okay?”
I pulled him close, kissing the top of his head. “I’m more than okay, sweetheart. I’m finally breathing again.”
As for Alex?
He moved in with Diane and his sister. From what I heard, life under Diane’s roof wasn’t exactly pleasant. Sometimes, karma doesn’t just knock — it kicks the door down.
And when it does, you’d better be ready to welcome it with open arms. Looking back now, I realize that losing that house was the best thing that could have happened to me. It taught me that home isn’t about the walls around you… it’s about the strength within you.
“You know what, Mom?” my daughter Kelly told me recently, “I’m proud of you. You showed us what real strength looks like.”
I smiled, pulling her close. “Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is walk away.”
And that’s exactly what I did.
Source: amomama
