It was a cold but sunny October morning. Harry was excited—he had a big presentation at work for a gaming app he’d been building for six months. This could be his big break. He barely slept the night before, too focused on making it perfect.
At 8 a.m., Harry walked into the dining room, glued to his phone. His wife, Sara, and their sons, Cody and Sonny, were already at the table.
“Morning, honey,” Sara greeted with a smile.
“Good morning, Daddy!” the kids said together.
Harry didn’t even look up. He grabbed a slice of toast and headed back to his room.
A moment later, his loud voice echoed through the house. “Sara, where’s my white shirt?”
“It’s in the wash with the other whites,” she called back.
Harry stormed into the dining room, his face red. “That’s my lucky shirt! I need it for today!”
“I didn’t have enough whites for a full load until now,” Sara explained. “You have other white shirts!”
“But this is a big day for me and you’re making excuses?” he snapped.
“You’re overreacting,” Sara said firmly. “Your presentation matters more than a shirt. Stop barking, alright?”
“Oh really? I’m barking? Now we’re doing this?”
“Doing what, Harry? You’re making a big scene over nothing! Nobody’s going to care what shirt you wear. They’ll be focused on your presentation.”
“A goddamn presentation, huh? Did you just say that?” he said, pointing. “Do you even know how hard I’ve been working day and night?”
“Watch your mouth, the kids are here—”
“You sit at home all day doing nothing!” he shouted. “Is it too hard to remember one simple thing? All you do is blah blah blah and nothing useful at home!”
“Stop it, Harry! You’re scaring the kids!” Sara said, shielding them.
“Oh really? And nobody says anything when you’re on the phone all day gossiping with your friends! You can’t even be a decent wife!”
He threw on a random suit, grabbed his briefcase, and slammed the door on his way out.
The presentation went better than Harry expected. He nailed it and even got promoted. Feeling proud, he bought white roses for Sara. He was sure she’d call to apologize—like she always did after a fight.
But the phone stayed silent.
When Harry got home, he noticed something strange. The apartment was quiet. Sara and the kids weren’t there. Then he saw it—a note on the table.
“I want a divorce.”
His heart dropped. He quickly called Sara’s sister, Zara.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked. “Where’s Sara?”
“She’s in the hospital,” Zara said sharply. “You told her she wasn’t wife enough for you?”
“I didn’t mean it like that! We’ll talk about this later!”
Harry rushed to the hospital and ran straight to the doctor.
“Doctor, is she okay? Can I see her?”
“She had a mild anxiety attack,” the doctor said. “She’s stable now. You can visit, but just ten minutes. She needs rest.”
Harry walked into the hospital room. Sara lay there, pale but awake. He tried to smile.
“Honey, I’m sorry,” he said, sitting next to her. “Please… let me explain—”
“I don’t want to hear anything,” she cut him off. “I’m done. I want a divorce.”
“What? You’re taking it too far!”
“I had dreams, Harry. I gave everything up for you and this family. And it ruined me. It’s too late for apologies.”
“We can fix this. We can do it together.”
“I can’t. I’m tired of pretending. I feel like a worn-out old woman at 32. I just… I hate you. You disgust me.”
“And the kids?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“I can’t take care of them right now… So they’re staying with you.”
Harry didn’t say another word. He left and went to Zara’s house to pick up the kids.
That night, he ordered pizza and ice cream. He tucked the kids into bed and called his friend Alex.
“She’ll come back,” Alex said. “She just needs time. Don’t worry.”
The next morning was chaos. The kids jumped on Harry to wake him up.
“Daddy! We’re gonna be late!”
Harry leapt out of bed. “Shoot! The time!”
He rushed to make French toast, but burned both the toast and his shirt. The smoke alarm went off.
“Daddy! What’s that sound?” Sonny cried.
“It’s just the toast. Don’t worry!” Harry said, fanning the smoke away.
He scrambled to get the kids dressed, then dropped them off at school and barely made it to his meeting—late and flustered.
“Sorry! Traffic!” he joked, but no one laughed.
That evening, he came home and noticed something heartbreaking: more of Sara’s things were missing.
“Did she really leave for good?”
“Daddy, where are Mommy’s pictures?” Cody asked.
He picked up the phone and called Zara. “Is this a joke? She came here, took her stuff, and left me with the kids?”
“She told you, Harry,” Zara said coldly. “You just didn’t listen.” Then she hung up.
Five long months passed. Sara didn’t come back. Harry had a hard time keeping up. His work started to suffer. He was exhausted all the time.
One day, his boss, Mr. Adams, called him to a pub.
“Harry, we need to talk,” Adams said. “Your work… it’s not the same.”
Harry laughed nervously. “You’re firing your best game developer?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ll give you recommendations, but… it’s out of my hands.”
“Please! Don’t do this! I need this job—for my kids!”
But Mr. Adams just looked away.
Just as Harry left the pub, his phone buzzed. It was Sara.
“Can we meet?” she asked. “At the café where we first met… at five?”
At the café, Sara sat across from him.
“I’ve been in therapy,” she said. “I want custody of the kids.”
“What?! Custody?! You left them!”
“I’m their mother. I have rights.”
“You can’t just show up and take them now! They need me.”
“I’ll see you in court.”
The day of the custody hearing arrived. Harry now worked from home as a freelance video editor. He made breakfast, kissed the kids goodbye, and walked into the courtroom.
Sara’s lawyer asked, “Mr. Wills, did you pay attention to your wife’s dreams while you were married?”
“I worked hard for my family,” Harry replied. “I wanted them to have everything.”
“But did she have dreams too?”
“Yes. She wanted a career before the kids. Then she stayed home to care for them.”
“So she was your cook, nanny, housekeeper—and you told her she did nothing?”
“I did. It was wrong. I was stressed… I didn’t mean it.”
“Were you fired recently?”
“Objection,” Harry’s lawyer said. “Irrelevant!”
“Overruled,” said the judge.
Harry sighed. “Yes. I lost my job. I couldn’t handle everything.”
“How are you managing now?”
“I work freelance. I’m doing my best.”
Sara’s lawyer sneered. “Freelance work? Recession? Two kids? Let’s be real.”
Then it was Sara’s turn on the stand.
“Did your husband ever refuse you money or mistreat you?” Harry’s lawyer asked.
“No,” Sara said softly. “He always provided. He never hit us. Never came home drunk.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“I had a breakdown. He was always busy. I felt invisible. I didn’t want my kids to suffer while I was falling apart.”
“Where have you been the past six months?”
“I went to Chicago. I needed time to heal. I’ve moved back to Boston and now work as an interior designer.”
“And how do we know you won’t leave the kids again?”
Sara’s lawyer jumped in. “Objection!”
“Order!” the judge said, banging the gavel.
Sara wiped a tear. “I won’t ever do it again. My kids mean everything to me.”
Two hours later, the judge announced the verdict.
“Custody is granted to Ms. Sara Wills. Mr. Wills will have visitation rights twice a week and must pay $860 monthly in support. Case closed.”
The day Sara came to take the boys, her heart ached. She missed them so much—but leaving Harry was still painful.
“Come on, boys,” she said softly.
But Cody suddenly stopped. “You’re just tearing us apart,” he said, running to Harry.
“We want both Mommy and Daddy!” Sonny cried.
Sara burst into tears and ran to hug them.
And for the first time in months… all four of them were in each other’s arms again.
