After 14 years, Peter told me I was “too tired, too boring, too much,” then left me and our four kids for his carefree colleague. No warning, just a text. A year later, as I was finally healing, he showed up at my door with a cheap bouquet and a request that changed everything.
For 14 years, I gave everything to our family.
I juggled four kids, packed countless lunches, managed dentist appointments that never seemed to end, and scrubbed more mashed carrots from car seats than I care to remember.
I was so busy taking care of everyone else that I barely noticed when the man I shared a bed with became a stranger.
Then came the text message that broke me.
I was elbow-deep in the second load of laundry when my phone chimed.
The phone fell from my fingers as I read the message, landing on the folded towels. My world narrowed in on the words on the screen.
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry,” Peter had texted. “You’re too tired. Too boring. Too much. I need more from life.”
He walked out on our daughter Emma’s dance recital that she’d practiced for months. He walked out on four young lives that depended on him.
And then came the Instagram posts about his new life, and everything made sense.