A serious woman lost in her thoughts while sitting next to her partner | Source: Shutterstock
When Abigail’s husband, Tom, announced he wanted to separate but insisted she uproot her entire life to follow him across the country, she thought it was the worst blow she’d ever face. She was wrong.
Let me start by saying, I never thought I’d be the kind of person to air her drama online. But here I am. My name is Abigail. I’m forty years old, and my life isn’t glamorous, but I’ve always thought it was stable.
A thoughtful woman standing on her front porch | Source: Midjourney
I live in the suburbs with my husband, Tom, 42, and our two kids, Emma and Jake, who are both in elementary school. For years, I thought we were your average family: grocery runs, PTA meetings, and Saturday mornings spent watching cartoons with sticky pancake syrup everywhere.
Tom works in corporate sales, and I’m a part-time librarian. Quiet, predictable, and, until recently, happy.
Then everything unraveled.
It started about a month ago. Tom came home late, shoulders hunched like he was carrying a weight I couldn’t see. I noticed immediately.
An exhausted man | Source: Midjourney
“You okay?” I asked, setting his dinner plate on the table.
He hesitated, his fork hovering mid-air. “I’ve been feeling… trapped.”
“Trapped?” I repeated, sitting across from him. “At work? Or just in general?”
“In everything.” His eyes darted to the side, avoiding mine. “Work’s a nightmare. I hate the commute, the office politics… all of it.”
I felt a pang of sympathy. Corporate life could grind anyone down. “Have you talked to your boss about a lighter workload? Maybe we could take a weekend trip—”
A woman with a sympathetic look | Source: Midjourney
“No, Abigail. That’s not going to fix it,” he snapped, cutting me off. He sighed and softened his tone. “Look, I’ve applied for a job in Quinleigh.”
“Quinleigh?” My voice rose. “Tom, that’s across the country. When were you planning to tell me?”
“I’m telling you now,” he said flatly, as if that made it better.
I blinked, trying to process it. But before I could respond, he hit me with something I’ll never forget. “I think we should separate.”
