“Stay in the garage.” – My husband chose his mother’s comfort over me. I agreed, but on one condition

“Why are you there?”

“You don’t deserve this.”

PEOPLE WERE STARTING TO TAKE NOTICE.

I started to type out answers, but what would I say? That my husband chose his mother’s comfort over my dignity?

It stung too much to put down in words.

I still hadn’t heard a peep from Jake or Lorraine.

That soon changed.

I STARTED TO TYPE OUT ANSWERS, BUT WHAT WOULD I SAY?

Jake sent me a text late that night.

You really didn’t have to post all that. It’s just one week.

I stared at the screen, then set the phone facedown on the nightstand, where it buzzed once more and went quiet.

That was when I knew I’d have to move to stage two of my plan.

He’d left me no other choice.

I’D HAVE TO MOVE TO STAGE TWO OF MY PLAN.

I hadn’t just been posting during those horrible first few days — I’d also been making calls.

Every evening, I sat on the edge of the bed with my laptop open, paperwork spread out like pieces of a puzzle I’d been avoiding for years.

By the time I headed home on the fifth day, everything was ready.

I expected Lorraine to be long gone, but when I stepped inside, her shoes were by the door.

I’D ALSO BEEN MAKING CALLS.
Lorraine herself stood in the living room, arms crossed, eyes sharp with something like anticipation.

“Oh, you actually had the nerve to show your face here after humiliating us online.”

Jake appeared behind her, jaw clenched tight.

“Did you enjoy it? Playing the victim in that place?”

I squared my shoulders and braced myself for the fight of my life.

JAKE APPEARED BEHIND HER, JAW CLENCHED TIGHT.

“I didn’t choose the place, Jake. You did.”

He scoffed, and I heard his mother in the sound. “What did you expect, a five-star resort? Do you know how much that motel cost?”

“Do you know how little it offered?”