The day I quit my job should have been the happiest of my life. Instead, I came home to two suitcases on the porch—mine. My pulse raced, excitement frozen into dread.
His voice cut through the air. “You QUIT your job?” He sneered, mocking, assuming the worst. I took a deep breath, holding the envelope in my hands.
“This is why I quit,” I said, revealing the offer from the company that would change everything. His eyes widened. “So… you’re not unemployed?”
“No,” I said. “But I am out of a husband.”
He stammered, guilt flickering across his face. I laughed bitterly, grabbed my bags, and walked out.
That night, I realized something powerful: the betrayal, the relief, the freedom—it was my second chance. And I wasn’t wasting it.
