When my husband finally arrived, his eyes darted around the room, taking in everything but seeing nothing. He greeted the kids with a quick hug and pecked my cheek as he passed, his lips cold against my skin.
As he asked me to iron his suit for an office party, it hit me like a slap in the face. The turkey timer chimed in the background, a countdown to something I couldn’t yet see. I couldn’t believe he was choosing a work event over our family Christmas.
The kids were disappointed, but I put on a brave face and promised them an adventure instead. As I tried to hold it together, my friend Melissa called, asking about what I was wearing to the office party. Confused, I asked her what she meant, only to find out that spouses were invited after all.
As the pieces clicked into place, I felt a surge of anger and betrayal. Without hesitation, I gathered our emergency cash and passports, along with some of my husband’s belongings, and took the kids on a spontaneous trip to Miami.
As we landed back home a week later, my husband was waiting for us at the airport, unshaven and hollow-eyed. He apologized and promised it would never happen again, but I wasn’t so quick to forgive. The Miami sun had burned away more than just my winter pallor – it had given me the strength to stand up for myself and my children.
As we walked to the parking lot, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm and clarity. The perfect Christmas I had planned may have been ruined, but maybe the gift I needed was the realization that I didn’t have to be the dutiful wife anymore. I could be the strong mother my children deserved.