When our kids got sick and couldn’t go on our long-awaited family vacation, my husband, Garrett, decided to go alone. What he didn’t know was that his selfish little getaway would cost him way more than he ever imagined.
I dragged myself through the front door at 8:30 p.m., exhausted after a brutal twelve-hour shift at the hospital. My feet ached, and my head pounded, but before I could even take a deep breath, the noise hit me like a slap in the face. The TV was blasting cartoons at full volume, and our kids, Zach and Penny, were shrieking as they raced around the living room, laughing and tumbling over each other.
And there was Garrett—lying on the couch, sprawled out like a lazy seal, beer in hand, scrolling through his phone.
“Hey, babe,” he called, not even glancing up. “Rough day?”
I bit down on my frustration, keeping my voice even. “You could say that. The ER was packed. Absolute chaos.”
I took in the disaster zone around him—empty snack bags, juice boxes, toys scattered everywhere. “Did you feed the kids dinner?”
Garrett shrugged like it wasn’t his problem. “They had some chips earlier. I figured you’d want to cook when you got home.”
I closed my eyes, silently counting to ten. This was nothing new. For years, I had come home from work—where I literally saved lives—only to find our house in complete chaos and my husband acting like an overgrown teenager.
“Mommy!” Penny ran up and wrapped her arms around my leg, her blonde pigtails lopsided. “I’m so hungry!”
I forced a smile. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s get you and your brother some real food.”
As I reheated leftovers, I tried to remind myself that we had something to look forward to—our upcoming family vacation to the beach. Maybe, just maybe, a little time away together would help us reconnect.
“So,” I said, setting plates down for the kids, “have you packed for the trip yet?”
Garrett barely looked up. “Nah. I’ll throw some stuff in a bag tomorrow. No big deal.”
I sighed, pressing my fingers to my temple. “Garrett, we leave in two days. A little planning wouldn’t hurt.”
He rolled his eyes. “Relax. It’s fine. You stress too much.”
The night before our flight, I woke up to the sound of gagging. I rushed to the bathroom and found Zach hunched over the toilet, his little face pale and sweaty. Not long after, Penny started throwing up too. My heart sank.
By morning, it was clear—our kids had caught a nasty stomach bug. There was no way they could travel.
I sat across from Garrett at breakfast, carefully breaking the news. “We’re going to have to postpone the trip. The kids are really sick.”
Garrett’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. “What? No way. I’ve been looking forward to this vacation for months!”
“I know, but they’re too sick to travel. We’ll reschedule,” I said, hoping he’d understand.
Instead, he just clenched his jaw. “I’m still going.”
I blinked, sure I’d misheard. “What?”
He met my gaze, expression hard. “You heard me. I need this break, Nora. Work has been insane.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, and my job isn’t? Garrett, I’m a nurse. I deal with real emergencies every single day.”
He scoffed. “This isn’t a competition. Look, you stay home with the kids. I’ll enjoy the beach for both of us.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious? You’re just going to leave us here?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. I need this.”
I watched in shock as he packed his suitcase, completely ignoring the sad, sick faces of our children. The front door slammed behind him, and something inside me snapped.
The next week was miserable. I nursed Zach and Penny back to health, juggling work and sleepless nights, all while seeing Garrett’s smug beach selfies pop up on my phone.
Then, on Friday, I got a message from him. Another picture—Garrett grinning over a fancy cocktail, the caption reading: “Living the dream!”
That was it. I was done.
I stormed into the garage and surveyed Garrett’s beloved “man cave.” Fishing gear, the boat he had insisted we buy but never used, shelves lined with expensive, useless junk. And right then, a plan formed in my mind.
I spent hours taking pictures, listing everything on the local buy-and-sell site. Within days, his prized possessions were gone, replaced by a fat stack of cash in my purse.
“Guess what, kids?” I announced over breakfast. “We’re going on our own special vacation!”
Their eyes lit up. Zach pumped his fist. “Awesome! Where are we going?”
I grinned. “It’s a surprise. But I promise it’ll be even better than Dad’s boring old beach.”
A few days later, we arrived at a beautiful resort. The kids bounced with excitement as they ran toward the pool. As I watched them splash and play, I felt lighter than I had in years.
“Mom, watch this!” Zach called before cannonballing into the water. I cheered and turned to help Penny with her water wings.
“You’re a natural with them,” a voice said behind me. I turned to see a woman about my age smiling. “Single mom?”
I hesitated. “It’s… complicated.”
She nodded. “I’ve been there. I’m Tessa, by the way.”
We talked for hours, sharing stories about work and motherhood. It felt good to connect with someone who understood.
“So what’s your story?” Tessa asked, sipping her lemonade.
I sighed. “My husband ditched us to go on vacation alone. So I sold all his precious stuff and brought my kids here instead.”
Tessa burst out laughing. “Oh my God! That’s brilliant! How’d he take it?”
“He doesn’t know yet,” I admitted with a smirk. “But I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”
As if on cue, my phone buzzed. Garrett’s name flashed on the screen.
“Speaking of the devil,” I muttered before answering. “Hello?”
“WHERE THE HELL IS ALL MY STUFF?” he roared.
I leaned against a palm tree, completely calm. “Oh, you noticed? I thought you’d be too busy ‘living the dream.'”
“You sold my stuff?! What the hell, Nora?!”
“I sure did. Used the money to take the kids on vacation. You know, like a real parent.”
He was speechless for a moment. Then, “You’ll regret this! I’ll see you in court!”
I exhaled deeply. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time in years, I felt free.
Later that night, Zach looked up at me with serious eyes. “Mom, are you and Dad getting divorced?”
I hesitated. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “I heard you on the phone. And you seem happier here.”
Tears pricked my eyes. I hugged him tightly. “You know what? I think we’re all going to be a lot happier from now on.”
As I lay in bed, listening to the ocean, I knew one thing for sure—this was just the beginning of something new. Something better. And I was finally ready for it.
