At My Husband’s Birthday Dinner He Snapped at Me, ‘You’re Living off Me, Eating for Free’ – Then My Dad’s Words Made My Blood Run Cold

Like a stranger playing house.

Once, I mentioned the idea of picking up some freelance work.

Just something small, something creative, and something that was mine. I yearned for that sense of independence again. Aidan barely looked up from his laptop.

He waved a hand dismissively, like I was a child tugging at a parent’s sleeve.

“No need,” he said, with a casual shrug. “You’re home now. We agreed.”

But we hadn’t.

Not really. He made it sound like a mutual decision, but it had always been his suggestion, spoken in a tone too firm to question. I’d said yes because I loved him.

Because I thought sacrifices were just part of the story. I took on freelance work anyway.

But this didn’t feel like a sacrifice anymore. It felt like servitude.

Who had I married? I thought to myself every day.

Still, I stayed.

I convinced myself that it was a rough patch, that he was under pressure at work, that we were adjusting to marriage. I told myself I was lucky. I tried to remember the man I married…

The one who brought me soup and held my hand in the dark.

But all I could see was the outline of that man, faded and hollow.

And then came his 35th birthday.

The house was full of our family and friends. Laughter echoed off the walls, glasses clinked together, and voices overlapped in happy chaos. His cousins clustered near the stereo, already picking the next playlist.

His parents sat comfortably on the couch, sipping wine.

My mom and dad were near the window, quietly observing the room the way they always did, with soft smiles and thoughtful glances.

It looked like a celebration. It sounded like one. And for a fleeting second, I let myself believe that maybe the night would stay light and happy.

I was in the kitchen, rearranging the appetizer tray I’d prepped hours earlier.

I’d had a full day in the kitchen making mini spinach puffs, crab-stuffed mushrooms, and skewered caprese bites. It was the kind of spread that required planning, patience, and timing.

I adjusted a garnish, took a breath, and balanced the platter in my hands. As I stepped into the living room, warmth still clinging to my smile, Aidan’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Well, go on then, Lacey,” he said, his tone dry and louder than it needed to be.

“How much of my money did you spend on today?”

Most of the laughter stopped mid-breath. There were a few unsure chuckles from people who didn’t know how else to respond to that. Conversation hung in midair.

I froze, still holding the tray.Continue reading…