My husband believed he could abandon our marriage, move in with another woman, and leave me behind to handle the one responsibility he had ignored for years.
He was mistaken.
For seven years, I took care of his mother.
I fed her, bathed her, changed her bedding, tracked every dose of medication, and stayed awake through endless nights when she couldn’t rest. Meanwhile, Daniel sat nearby scrolling on his phone, occasionally saying, “You’re better at this than I am,” as if that counted as help.
Then one night, I saw the message.
“This place feels so much better than home. I’m staying here again tonight.”
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