{"id":46320,"date":"2025-02-16T20:43:54","date_gmt":"2025-02-16T20:43:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/?p=46320"},"modified":"2025-02-17T11:46:10","modified_gmt":"2025-02-17T11:46:10","slug":"my-husband-demanded-we-have-valentines-dinner-with-his-work-wife-i-agreed-and-made-it-unforgettable","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/?p=46320","title":{"rendered":"My Husband Demanded We Have Valentine\u2019s Dinner with His >>>>"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I used to think the phrase \u201cwork wife\u201d was harmless. A cute little corporate joke. An exaggeration, at best. But after a year of hearing my husband, Chris, throw the term around like confetti at a wedding, I wasn\u2019t laughing anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"An<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Emily. Emily this, Emily that.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emily knows the best lunch spots.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emily keeps him so organized.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emily understands the stress of his job in a way that I just couldn\u2019t.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oh, and my favorite line?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe\u2019s like my other half at work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yeah. That one nearly got him a shoe thrown at his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The night I realized that this wasn\u2019t a harmless thing, I was making dinner. I was making truffle risotto with seared scallops. It was one of Chris\u2019s favorites, the kind of meal that made his eyes light up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGod, Sabine,\u201d he would say. \u201cI don\u2019t deserve you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wanted to surprise him after another long workday. Honestly, all I wanted to do was have a good meal with my husband, maybe drink a glass or two of red wine, and cuddle with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But he didn\u2019t come home in time for dinner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was lounging on the couch, trying to find something to watch on TV when my phone lit up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Running late. You don\u2019t have to wait up.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

No apology. No explanation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at the screen, something heavy settling in my chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, there goes our dinner,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I dragged myself to bed, not even bothering with cleaning the kitchen. Chris could do that tomorrow morning. I was done trying to care for him now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I put my phone down, then picked it up again. Nothing like a good scroll through the socials before I fell asleep. I opened Instagram, and while I knew that Chris rarely posted, I wanted to check on something\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

So, I went to Emily\u2019s stories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a blurry Boomerang of two wine glasses clinking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Much needed after today!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then there was a wide shot of a restaurant, dim and intimate, candlelight flickering against wine glasses. And there, in the background of one photo, was Chris.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Laughing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat the hell, Chris?!\u201d I shouted, sending a pillow flying to the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was our<\/em> restaurant. The one we went to for anniversaries, for birthdays, for special us<\/em> moments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now he was there, with her<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at the photo, the lingering smell of the risotto, the scent of butter and garlic thick in the air\u2026 my stomach turned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wasn\u2019t mad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not yet.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I was something else.<\/em> It was something quieter. Something heavy. Something that seemed to take root in my stomach and twist itself all along my insides.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried to picture the version of me from two years ago, the Sabine who wouldn\u2019t have overthought this, who would\u2019ve rolled her eyes and laughed it off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But that version of me hadn\u2019t been slowly pushed out of her own marriage yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That version of me hadn\u2019t spent months feeling like an outsider in her own home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now, that version of me was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next morning, I woke to a spotless kitchen and the coffee machine ready and waiting to pour me a cup. Chris was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNice try,\u201d I muttered, getting a cup all the same.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had heard him come in last night. I didn\u2019t care enough to open my eyes. Instead, I just pretended that I was sleeping. When he kissed my cheek, I had to hold myself together to not kick him off the bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Months passed without any explanation about Chris just skipping dinner that night. We spoke, but barely. There were hardly any romantic advances.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And you know what?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was fine with that.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But then, when Chris was away on a business trip, I got a card in the mail. Naturally, I thought it was sweet and romantic. I thought that my husband was trying to get back in my good books. That he was finally seeing the cracks in our marriage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

ALSO READ…<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I used to think the phrase \u201cwork wife\u201d was harmless. A cute little corporate joke. An exaggeration, at best. But after a year of hearing my husband,… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":46335,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/46320"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=46320"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/46320\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":46588,"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/46320\/revisions\/46588"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/46335"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=46320"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=46320"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=46320"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}