I’m a nurse, and my husband’s a realtor. He doesn’t have a clue about the workload and mental stress I go through every single day. It’s like he completely stopped caring about me or what I’m dealing with. He’s pulled some selfish stunts before, but this time he really crossed the line.
We booked a vacation at a beach resort in advance, but just a day before the flight, our kids got sick. I was about to call the airline and ask about getting a refund, but guess what my husband said?
“I’M STILL GOING ON VACATION. YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I NEED A BREAK FROM WORK!” (Uh, do I not work too!?).
I thought he’d come to his senses, but nope—he went on the trip without us! I was beyond furious, and honestly, I’m seriously considering divorce. But before that, I had to teach him a lesson he wouldn’t forget. My revenge was brutal, but he had it coming!
So, that day, I walked into his garage and started rummaging through his things. I wasn’t looking for anything specific at first—just something that could give me an idea of how to make him understand the gravity of what he’d done.
That’s when I saw it: his prized possession, a vintage guitar he’d been restoring for months. He treated that thing like it was his firstborn child. If there was one way to get his attention, this would be it.
But I didn’t want to destroy it outright—that felt too petty, even for him. Instead, I came up with a plan. A clever, calculated move that would hit him where it hurt most: his ego. I decided to sell the guitar online while he was away, but not just anywhere—I listed it on a high-end collector’s forum under a fake account. The ad read: “Rare find! Vintage 1965 Gibson SG in mint condition. Serious inquiries only.”
I priced it low enough to attract immediate interest but high enough to make it believable. Within hours, I had multiple offers. I accepted the first one from a buyer who agreed to pick it up the next day. When my husband returned from his vacation, I knew exactly how I’d break the news.
The days passed slowly as I juggled caring for our sick kids and managing household chores. It was exhausting, but every time I thought about the look on his face when he realized what I’d done, I couldn’t help but smile. Still, guilt tugged at me occasionally. Was I being too harsh? Maybe. But then I’d remember how he left us behind without a second thought, and my resolve hardened again.
When he finally walked through the door three days later, tan and relaxed, I greeted him with forced politeness. “Welcome back,” I said flatly, handing him a cup of coffee. His smile faltered slightly, probably sensing the tension in the air, but he brushed it off.
“How are the kids?” he asked, setting down his suitcase.
“They’re better,” I replied curtly. “Thanks for asking.”
He frowned, clearly confused by my tone. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, everything’s fine,” I said sweetly, leading him into the living room. “Except… well, you might want to check your garage.”
His eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged innocently. “Why don’t you go see for yourself?”
He bolted out of the room, and I followed close behind, trying to suppress a grin. When he opened the garage door and saw the empty space where his guitar used to be, his face turned pale. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the spot in disbelief.
“What… where is it?” he stammered, turning to me.
“I sold it,” I said matter-of-factly.
“You WHAT?! Why would you do that?!”
“Because you needed a wake-up call,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “You abandoned your family when we needed you most. You went on vacation while I stayed home with two sick kids, juggling work calls and doctor appointments. Did you even think about us once while you were sipping margaritas on the beach?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He looked genuinely shocked, like he hadn’t considered the impact of his actions until now.
“I worked hard on that guitar!” he protested weakly.
“And I work hard every single day,” I countered. “But apparently, that doesn’t matter to you. So, consider this a lesson in consequences. Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before putting yourself ahead of your family.”
For the rest of the evening, he was unusually quiet. He didn’t argue or try to defend himself further, which surprised me. Normally, he’d fight back, insisting he deserved a break or blaming me for overreacting. But tonight, he seemed… reflective.
The next morning, he approached me cautiously as I prepared breakfast. “Can we talk?” he asked softly.
I nodded, bracing myself for whatever excuse he was about to come up with. To my surprise, though, he didn’t offer excuses. Instead, he apologized.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I messed up. I didn’t realize how selfish I was being. I thought you had everything under control, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a few days off. But seeing the kids sick—and realizing what you went through—it made me realize how wrong I was.”
I studied his face, searching for any hint of insincerity. All I saw was regret. “Do you really mean that?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “I should’ve been here. And I promise I’ll do better moving forward. No more vacations unless we all go together. No more taking you for granted.”
It was a start, but I needed more than words. “Prove it,” I challenged him. “Actions speak louder than promises.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. What can I do to make it right?”
Over the following weeks, he kept his word. He took on more responsibilities around the house, helping with the kids and pitching in whenever I needed a break. He even canceled a business trip to stay home when one of the kids got sick again. Slowly but surely, I began to trust him again.
As for the guitar, I eventually told him the truth: I hadn’t actually sold it. I’d hidden it in the attic, waiting to see if he’d change his behavior before deciding whether to return it. When I revealed its location, he hugged me tightly, tears in his eyes.
“Thank you for giving me another chance,” he whispered. “I won’t let you down again.”
Looking back, I realize that selling the guitar—or pretending to—wasn’t just about teaching him a lesson. It was also about standing up for myself and showing him that I deserved respect and consideration. Sometimes, relationships require tough love to grow stronger.
Life isn’t always fair, and people make mistakes. But true growth happens when we acknowledge those mistakes and commit to doing better. My husband learned that lesson the hard way, but ultimately, it brought us closer together.
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