We paused the conversation for a few weeks, hoping it wouldn’t resurface.

“Are you struggling financially, Lisa?” my mother asked after I shared Tom’s suggestion during our pasta dinner.

“No, not at all,” I replied. “Our lives are manageable. It’s just that Tom is really pushing this idea.”

“Do you think his business isn’t doing well?” she probed.

“Impossible,” I said, shaking my head. “His shop is thriving.”

“Then what is it?” she asked.

“I have no idea. I’m already stretched thin with my job and household duties. I can’t take on more.”

“You need to tell him you can’t handle this,” my mother advised.

Things shifted when we decided to sell my car. Over dinner, Tom insisted, “You need that second job.”

“Why me?” I asked, exasperated. “I already work long hours.”

“Your job is easy; you work from home,” he replied dismissively.

Stunned, I shot back, “Why don’t you get a second job?”

“Because I’d miss bowling!” he said, as if it were the most logical excuse.

“Fine,” I said, reluctantly agreeing.

The next day, I planned my revenge: I would get a job at the bowling alley where Tom and his friends hung out, working night shifts to make him jealous.

On my first shift, I wore a revealing uniform. Tom arrived, confused. When he saw me, he stormed over, demanding, “What are you doing?”

“I’m working,” I smirked.

“This isn’t what I meant!” he yelled.

“Well, I’m getting great tips,” I shot back.

He ordered me to quit, but I walked away to serve other customers. During my shift, I overheard the manager say Tom had a history of seducing waitresses.

Confronting him, I screamed, “You’ve been with the waitresses?! One just had your baby?”

Tom turned pale.

“I can explain,” he stammered.

“I don’t want to hear it. Pack your things; I’m filing for divorce.”

I left the alley, heartbroken. Who was the man I had married?