Feeling unappreciated and exhausted, I decided I needed a break from my marriage—to clear my head, to breathe. But when my car broke down miles from home, I ended up at a small motel. What started as a simple getaway turned into something unexpected. Something that changed everything.
I had spent years hearing the same words over and over:
“He doesn’t hit you. He doesn’t cheat. He doesn’t drink. So what are you complaining about?”
My friends, my parents, even my coworkers—they all said it as if it was some universal truth. And for years, I accepted it, believing that my feelings weren’t valid.
But now, with the kids grown and gone, it was just me and Tony. And the truth I had been avoiding was staring me in the face.
“You don’t clean well enough.” “You never learned to cook like my mother.” “You should do more.”
The words cut deep. Not because they were new, but because they never stopped.
I worked just as much as Tony did. I earned more than him. And yet, after a long day, I was the one scrubbing floors, washing dishes, and folding laundry while he sat on the couch watching TV—acting like I owed him something.
One evening, he sprawled across the couch as usual. “Carmen!” His voice boomed from the living room.
I sighed. My hands were covered in flour from kneading dough. I wiped them on my apron and kept working.
“What?” I called back.
“Come here! Right now!”
I clenched my jaw and walked into the living room. He didn’t even look at me, just pointed at the TV. “Why is there dust on this?”
I let out a short laugh. “If you don’t like it, clean it yourself.”
Tony scoffed. “Who’s the woman in this house? Me or you?” He shook his head. “I’m tired from work.”
“So am I,” I snapped. “I did the laundry. I’m making dinner. You’re sitting there doing nothing.”
He waved a hand. “Stop making excuses. That’s your duty! Sarah from work has a job too, but she still does everything at home. And she looks amazing, while you—” He gestured at me. “You’ve let yourself go.”
His words hit hard. They weren’t new, but this time, something inside me snapped. I ripped off my apron and threw it onto the floor.
“You think she’s so perfect? Go live with her! Or clean your own mess! I’m done!” I yelled.
I stormed upstairs, heart pounding, and yanked a suitcase from the closet.
Tony’s footsteps followed. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“On vacation! I deserve it!”
“You’re just going to leave me here alone?” His voice rose in panic.
I zipped my suitcase. “I need to think about whether I even want this marriage anymore.”
Tony stood there, speechless. Maybe he thought I was bluffing. That I’d calm down, unpack, and apologize like always.
But not this time.
I threw my suitcase into the car and drove off without looking back. I had no plan—just a need for space. Somewhere near the beach sounded nice.
At a gas station, I stopped for fuel and water. When I walked inside, a man stared at me. Not just a glance—he was studying me.
“Do we know each other?” I asked.
A smirk spread across his face. “You once said you’d never forget me.”
My breath caught. The voice, the eyes, the smile—it all came rushing back.
“David…” I whispered.
He chuckled. “Nice to see you again. What brings you here?”
“I’m on vacation,” I lied.
David raised an eyebrow. “Vacation? Alone?”
“Yes.”
“If you need a place to stay, I own a motel nearby. Discount for an old friend.” He winked.
I hesitated. “No, thanks. I need time alone.”
“Alright. But if you change your mind, stop by.” He handed me a business card and walked out. My heart pounded as I stared at it.
Minutes later, my car sputtered, then stalled completely.
A car pulled up beside me. “Trouble?” David asked, smirking.
“Yes. My car won’t start.”
He popped the hood and shook his head. “You need repairs. While you wait, you can stay at my motel.”
I hesitated. “Really?”
David nodded, and I slid into his car. The motel was small but well-kept. “Welcome,” he said, handing me a key.
Later, the mechanic checked my car. “A few days,” he said, wiping his hands.
So I stayed. David and I spent time together, talking over breakfast, reminiscing over dinner. Old feelings stirred.
One night, under the stars, I asked, “Do you ever regret that we broke up?”
His eyes locked onto mine. “Every single day.”
I leaned in. His lips met mine. One moment led to another, and by morning, I woke up in his bed.
Guilt crashed over me. I reached for my phone. A message from Tony:
I know I haven’t been the best husband. Please come back. I promise I’ll change.
Tears blurred my vision. Hadn’t I heard this before? And yet, I had betrayed him.
I packed quietly. As I zipped my bag, a knock came at the door.
David stood there. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Carmen, you told me yourself—he won’t change.”
“I have to give him one last chance.”
I walked past him, but as I neared my car, I overheard the mechanic:
“That was quite the scheme you pulled.”
David crossed his arms. “I had to make sure she stayed.”
My stomach dropped.
“There was nothing wrong with her car. We fixed it the first day,” the mechanic added.
I stepped forward, voice shaking. “How could you?!”
David turned. “I did it for us.”
I clenched my fists. “No. You did it for you.”
I grabbed my keys and drove off.
For the first time in my life, I chose myself.
