‘You’re Just a Babysitter,’ My Wife Said as She Walked Out, Leaving Me Alone with Our Kids — Story of the Day

‘You’re Just a Babysitter, Not a Real Man,’ My Wife Said Before Leaving Me with Three Kids — Story of the Day

With a devoted wife, three wonderful children, and a life we created together, I believed I had it all. However, everything I held dear collapsed the night I went to that party with her.

The usual symphony of turmoil always opened my day. From his cot came Timmy’s piercing cries. Kevin made explosion noises when his toy vehicles collided on the carpet. Emma, meantime, was in front of me.

“I have to put on my pink outfit today, Daddy. Everyone will adore it. This dress is the most incredible thing ever.

I wrapped her hair in a tidy ribbon and nodded.

“Obviously, my love. Everyone is going to be impressed.

From the kitchen came the wonderful, warm smell of chocolate cookies. My specialty cookies were cooked and prepared for the kids’ midday snack. I concentrated on sewing the final component of Kevin’s dinosaur costume while the oven worked.

“This has to be the coolest dino ever, Dad!” Leaning across the table to go over my work, Kevin said.

“It will be, buddy,” I told him repeatedly. “Just you wait.”

An audiobook played softly in the background. There wasn’t much; it was merely entertainment for the children. I felt at ease throughout those times. They served as a reminder that despite the changes in my life, I still had things to cling to.

However, it wasn’t always the case.

I had a profitable business once. After many long days and nights of labor, Angela and I were able to pay for her law school education and purchase this home. I wanted to fulfill her aspirations, and they were enormous ones.

Emma wanted me to temporarily stay at home when she was born so she could complete her internship. I consented, assuming it would only last a short time. After Kevin entered the picture, Angela’s career took off.

I told her, “I’ll take care of the house and the kids.” “You focus on work.”

Two months after giving birth, Angela hurried back to work without even taking maternity leave with Kevin. One promotion led to another, and she spent less and less time at home.

I took on the responsibilities of feeding the children, reading parenting manuals, and even making birthday cakes. It didn’t bother me. I was pleased with my newfound ability.

Angela arrived home earlier than normal that afternoon when I was finishing the last seam of Kevin’s outfit. She didn’t say hello to the children or me. She hurried to the bedroom instead.

She changed and emerged in the corridor a few minutes later. Her crimson lipstick shimmered in the sun, and her black dress fit her shape flawlessly. She was gorgeous.

“Tonight is a work party. She adjusted her earrings and replied, “I must be present.”

“A work party?” I inquired. “You said nothing at all. I could have accompanied you.

“It’s late. It’s for work. It wouldn’t be fun for you.”

I watched without turning around as she walked away. There was a brief flash of inspiration.

I picked up the phone and called Mrs. Graham, our neighbor.

“Hi, could you watch the kids for a couple of hours tonight?”

After getting her OK, I switched off the oven, changed into my nicest clothes, and picked up a bunch of Angela’s favorite lilies.

“Tonight,” I whispered, “I’ll remind her of what we used to have.”

When I entered the venue, there was a lot of energy in the celebration. The area glistened with pricey materials and glittering jewelry as the music throbbed through the atmosphere. I clutched a bouquet of lilies like a teenage girl in love, feeling a little out of place in my plain shirt and pants.

Angela caught my attention as I looked over the gathering. She was the focus of attention on stage. She appeared stunning, as if she had just stepped off the cover of a high-end magazine.

As I listened to her speech, I couldn’t help but feel proud. The audience followed along with every line she said with ease.

My wife is a genius. My Angela. How did I become so fortunate?

I repositioned my hold on the blooms, picturing her smiling when she received them.

There was a roar of applause when she concluded her address. However, a second man appeared next to her before I could move forward. I could never afford the enormous bouquet of orchids he gave her.

He then gave her a hug. I almost let the lilies fall out of my hands.

Though not with the smile she offered me, Angela’s face brightened. It was cozy and personal.

I followed them through the crowd, staying just far enough behind to be unnoticed, as the room merged around me. They came to a halt close to the exit. Her voice came to me sharp and clear:

“We won’t have to hide for much longer.” I’m going to file for divorce shortly.

Even though my legs were shaking, I made myself move onward. Silently, I offered the flowers. Angela’s eyes grew wide, but she remained silent. I turned and left without turning around.

I could hardly recognize Angela anymore. I had previously loved this ambitious, compassionate woman, but now she was cold and cynical. I could still hear her scathing comments.

She declared, “I don’t love you anymore,” following that night.

“You’re nothing more than a babysitter, not a real man.”

I didn’t want to acknowledge how deeply the contempt in her eyes struck me. As if reading from a shopping list, she stood in the center of the living room and listed her demands.

“I’ll take all the savings, the house, and the automobile. I’ll give you the most valuable item. The children.

It wasn’t a loving gesture. They weren’t wanted by Angela.

The divorce procedure was cold and transactional, and it took a long time. There were no sincere conversations or expressions of regret. Although I was prepared for the worst, the court ultimately decided in my favor. I was given both house ownership and custody of the kids.

It seemed like a minor win in a losing conflict.

Everything, however, hinged on me from that point on. I needed to get a job, support my children, and figure out how to put my broken life back together.

The employment market felt unfamiliar and daunting after years of being a stay-at-home father.

I watched Kevin sprint to his buddies as I stood by the classroom door one morning after dropping him off at preschool. I was startled out of my reverie by a recognizable voice.

“Hi, Andrew.” Jennifer was the one.

She was a teacher in Kevin’s class and one of the single mothers there; I had said hi to her politely but didn’t know her well.

“We’re looking for a teaching assistant at the preschool,” she said. “Maybe it’s exactly what you need right now.”

I was taken aback by her remarks. A teaching assistant? I hadn’t given that much thought.

“Do you think they’d even consider me?” With a hint of skepticism in my voice, I questioned.

“Obviously. You already get along well with the children. Why not make it official?

After deciding to apply, I began working at the preschool a few weeks later. Although it wasn’t a permanent position, I made enough money from it to support us. It also included additional time to spend with the children and free extracurricular activities.

Kevin and Emma were participating in a class performance a few months later. As my kids took their bows, I joyfully applauded from where I stood in the crowd.

And then I saw Angela among the crowd. I felt uneasy around her since she never went to preschool functions. She came over to me after the show, her smile too big to be real.

“Let’s talk,” she said in a charming tone. “I’ve been thinking… maybe we should give our family another chance.”

I went cold. Her voice was calculating and odd. It was quick to figure out why. Her business was faltering, and she had lost her new boyfriend. I wasn’t wanted by her. She desired the security I offered.

“I can’t do this,” I firmly stated. “You’re welcome to see the kids, but we’re not a family anymore.”

Her face transformed in an instant. Cold rage took the place of the saccharine façade.

“If you think you can just refuse me, you’re wrong,” she said. “I’ll bring the children. Even your employment isn’t steady. I will win my case in court.

She didn’t talk about parenthood or love. They have to do with control. The children didn’t matter to Angela. She was just interested in winning.

I couldn’t afford to lose, and the stakes were higher than ever before.

I had some of the most stressful weeks of my life in the weeks that followed. All of my moments were shadowed by Angela’s legal threats, which hung over me like a black cloud. Without her comments reverberating in my head, I was unable to fall asleep.

“I’ll bring the children. The court is going to support me.

It was more than just a danger. I couldn’t afford to ignore it since it was a battle cry.

Jennifer was my lifeline in no time. Whether it was to listen, give me advise, or bring me coffee when I felt like I was about to pass out, she was always there.

One evening, while sitting in my living room with piles of paperwork all around us, she remarked, “You’ve been the primary caregiver for years.” “The children would not be taken from you by any court. All we have to do is demonstrate it.

Although I understood that hope alone wouldn’t win this battle, her comments gave me hope. We all put forth a lot of effort to collect proof.

We discovered pictures of birthday celebrations, preschool activities, and ordinary occasions that portrayed me as the focal point of my children’s existence. Jennifer assisted in gathering testimonies from neighbors, educators, and even the principal of the preschool, who consented to compose a statement outlining my level of involvement in my kids’ lives.

Angela was already there in a stylish designer suit on the day of the court hearing. As the court got underway, Angela’s attorney made the case that the children would have a better future because of her financial security. However, she stumbled and her polished exterior broke when the judge questioned her about her role in their lives.

Her statements were overshadowed by our proof. The decision was in my favor. Angela was allowed to visit, but I was given full custody.

Jennifer was waiting for me outside. She gave me a big hug and grinned. “I assured you that we would work it out!”

After that, things didn’t miraculously get back to normal. I kept working at the preschool, and with Jennifer’s support, I took evening classes to earn my teaching certification.

My bond with Jennifer deepened as the days stretched into weeks. She turned into a beacon of hope in my life, a constant reminder that there was always hope.

Jennifer smiled at me one evening as we were sitting in the yard watching children play.

“Life can have a humorous way of providing you with exactly what you need when you least expect it.”

She was correct. Although Angela’s betrayal had crushed me, it also forced me to find my purpose, my strength, and something I never would have imagined finding again. Love.

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