My Husband Made Her Breakfast for Three Years

My husband made breakfast for his female coworker for three years. I only found out today. He left his phone on the coffee table, and a notification from his coworker popped up on Snapchat: "The sunny-side-up egg was a bit burnt today, but I still loved it." I scrolled up through their chat history. That was when I realized he had been making and packing breakfast for her every single day for the past three years. He woke up an hour early every single morning just to cook for another woman. Meanwhile, I was rushing out the door eating dry, cheap grocery store bagels. Because of this, I brought up divorce. He frowned, looking completely baffled. "Over a stupid breakfast? Aren’t you being incredibly petty?" I didn't argue. I didn't scream. Starting the next day, I had lunch every afternoon with Liam, a handsome guy from my department who had been pursuing me for two years. Before a week had even passed, Ethan rushed into my office lobby, grabbed my arm, and hissed, "What is the meaning of this?" I shook off his grip. "It's just lunch. Why are you being so petty?" He said, "What is the meaning of this?" I ignored him and kept walking toward the elevator. He caught up to me, grabbing my arm again. His voice cracked with frustration. "I asked you a question, Chloe! What the hell are you doing?!" People were walking in and out of the lobby. Quite a few of my coworkers turned around to stare. I shook off his hand again. My voice was as calm as if I were commenting on the weather. "It's just lunch, Ethan. Why are you being so petty?" His face turned incredibly pale. His lips trembled for a few seconds before he managed to squeeze out, "You are coming home with me. Now." "Why would I go home with you?" "You’re my wife!" "Oh, so now you remember I'm your wife?" I looked at him. Images of our last three years flashed through my mind like a cruel movie reel. He would wake up at six every morning, quietly wash up, and slip into the kitchen. He made sandwiches, beautiful sunny-side-up eggs, and aesthetic fruit cups. They were so perfect they looked like they were cut out of a food magazine. I always thought he was packing those lunchboxes for himself to eat at his desk. I bought cheap bagels on my way to work every morning. Sometimes, I even felt bad for him, telling him to stop waking up so early because it was too exhausting. He always smiled and said, "It’s fine, I'm used to it." Turns out, he was indeed used to it. Used to cooking for another woman. "You had lunch with that guy today. What are you trying to prove?" Ethan lowered his voice, his eyes burning with anger. "You saw it with your own eyes. There’s nothing to explain." With that, I turned around. He yelled my name from behind, but I didn't look back. I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for my floor. As the doors slid shut, I saw him standing in the lobby, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. Leaning against the elevator wall, my heart hammered against my ribs. But I didn't regret a single thing. Back at my desk, I opened my laptop. My hands were still trembling slightly. Sophie, who sat across from me, poked her head over. "Hey, Chloe, was that your husband downstairs? Did you guys get into a fight?" "It’s nothing," I forced a smile. Sophie was smart enough not to push further. I was completely distracted for the rest of the afternoon. The text message kept looping in my head. I remembered last week when he had a bad cold. I offered to make him some warm chicken soup, but he told me not to bother. He said he would just grab something simple himself. I was so touched at the time. I thought he was just being considerate. Now I realized he wasn't being considerate. He just didn't want or need my care. When the clock hit five, I packed my things and walked out. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was a text from him. "We need to talk tonight." I didn't reply. I threw the phone into my bag. When I got back to our apartment, the living room lights were off. I changed my shoes and noticed the guest bedroom door was shut, a thin sliver of light escaping from underneath. He had moved into the guest room. Perfect. Saved me the trouble of kicking him out of our bed. I tossed my bag onto the couch and went to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. As I passed the guest bedroom, I paused. Whenever we used to fight, he would move into the guest room. Every single time, I would be the one to knock on his door, offering him an olive branch. Once, we had a major argument, and he slept in the guest room for a whole week. I cooked every meal and called him to eat. He would eat in silence, then immediately retreat back to the guest room and lock the door. In the end, I had to swallow my pride and apologize before he finally moved back into our bedroom. As for what that fight was about? It was because I chatted with a male client for a few minutes too long. He thought I was being "too friendly." How ironic. He demanded that I keep my distance from any man, yet he went behind my back and made breakfast for a female coworker for three years. A knock sounded on the door. "We need to talk."His voice came muffled through the wood. I didn't move from the bed. "Chloe, open the door." I still didn't move. The doorknob turned, and he walked in. He stood by the edge of the bed, looking down at me. "Don't you think you're overreacting?" I sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Overreacting?" "You want a divorce just because I brought someone breakfast? Don't you think you're being ridiculous?" I looked at his face. This was the man I had lived with for five years, yet he suddenly looked like a complete stranger. "You think this is ridiculous?" "Isn't it? It's literally just breakfast. I didn't cross any lines." "Then what do you consider crossing the line?" I asked him, my voice dangerously calm. "Sleeping with her?" He frowned. "What are you talking about? She is just a coworker." "A coworker who has been eating your home-cooked breakfast for three years?" "She has a terrible stomach. Eating takeout makes her sick. I was already making food, so I just made an extra portion for her. It was convenient." "Convenient?" I let out a dry laugh. "You woke up an hour early every single day just because it was 'convenient'?” “You cut up fresh fruit and arranged them beautifully for her because it was 'convenient'? You remembered exactly what she likes and dislikes because it was 'convenient'?" He went dead silent. I continued, "You made her breakfast for three years, Ethan. You have never, not once, made breakfast for me. Not even a single piece of toast." "That's because... there wasn't enough time in the morning." "Not enough time? If you woke up an hour early anyway, you couldn't have made a double portion? Why didn't you?" He opened his mouth, but no words came out. "Because you didn't think I was worth the effort." I finished the sentence for him. "In your mind, I wasn't worth your precious sleep. I wasn't worth the effort to remember what I like to eat. I wasn't worth the beautiful plating, the fresh-cut fruit, or the extra care." "If you want to think of it that way, there's nothing I can say." "Look at you. You can't even bother to make up a decent lie anymore." He took a deep breath, trying to soften his tone. "Fine. I admit I was in the wrong for that. But I only brought her food. You, on the other hand, went out on an actual date with another man today. Those are two completely different things." "How are they different?" "She and I are just coworkers. What is your deal with that guy? Liam has been chasing you for two years. Everyone in your office knows it! You had lunch with him today—are you just trying to get back at me?" "Get back at you?" I tilted my head. "I just had a friendly lunch with a colleague. We are strictly professional. Don't overthink it." His face twisted. He must have found those words incredibly familiar. "You..." "What about me?" "You're doing this on purpose just to piss me off!" "Am I?" I stared at him. "You said it yourself, it's just a meal. Why can't you handle me having lunch with a coworker when you've been playing chef for another woman for three years?" "I told you, she is just a coworker!" "And I told you, he is just a coworker. The restaurant he took me to was amazing, by the way. We’re planning to go back next week."He slammed his hand down on the nightstand. "That is enough, Chloe!" I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. "Why are you yelling? You get to play loving husband to your coworker for three years, but I can't have one lunch with a colleague? Do you write the rules of this marriage? Are you always right while I'm always wrong?" "That's because I never did anything to betray you!" "And did I? Did you catch me in bed with him?" He was completely speechless, his chest heaving. I threw off the duvet, slid into my slippers, and walked toward the door. "Where are you going?" "None of your business." He followed me out, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor. "Where are you going? It's freezing outside, don't leave!" I walked to the entryway, slipped into my boots, and grabbed my car keys. "What is leaving in the middle of the night going to solve? Calm down!" "I am incredibly calm." I unlocked the front door. "Calmer than I've ever been." I shut the door right in his face. In the elevator, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were slightly red. When I first found that text message last week, I sat on the couch for an entire afternoon, crying until my eyes were swollen and raw. When he came home from work, I handed him the phone. The very first thing out of his mouth was, "Are you snooping through my phone?" He didn't even try to explain the coworker. All he cared about was that I had unlocked his phone. At that exact moment, I knew this marriage was over. I drove to a nearby boutique hotel and checked in. The room wasn't huge, but it was clean and quiet. I lay on the bed, staring at the warm yellow light on the ceiling. My phone buzzed. It was a text from him. "Where are you?" I didn't reply. It buzzed again. "Come home. Let's talk this through." Still, I didn't reply. The third message came fifteen minutes later. "Do you really have to be like this? Making a giant scene out of a minor issue." I flipped my phone over, screen down, on the nightstand. And I went to sleep. The next morning, I got ready and drove straight to the office. When I stepped out of the Uber, the morning sun was rising, casting a bright, clear light over the streets. I squinted, realizing this was the most peaceful night of sleep I had enjoyed in years. I was alone, but at least that heavy, suffocating knot in my chest was gone. I walked toward the office building lobby. But before I could reach the glass doors, I froze. Ethan was standing near the entrance, holding an insulated lunch bag. When he saw me, he quickly walked over. He pushed the bag into my hands, his tone noticeably softer. "I made this for you this morning. Sunny-side-up eggs, bacon, and that avocado sandwich you love. Consider it an apology, okay?""No, thank you." I stepped aside to walk past him. He blocked me, forcing the bag into my hands again. "I made this specifically for you. Just take it." The bag stayed in my hands for a brief second before I shoved it back into his chest. "I said, no." "What else do you want from me, Chloe? I literally got up and made you breakfast. Can't you just take the win and give me a break?" "Take the win?" I almost laughed out loud. "You made me breakfast once, and I'm supposed to be crying tears of gratitude? What about me? “ “I cooked dinner for you for five straight years. Did you ever say thank you once?" His expression stiffened. "That's different." "How is it different? Oh, right. The dinner I made was just my duty, but your breakfast is a sacred gift reserved only for your special coworker, right?" "I told you, it was just a favor for a colleague!" "Then why didn't you make breakfast for the male colleagues in your department? Why didn't you make it for Sarah? Or Dave?” “ There are plenty of people in your office with bad stomachs, Ethan. Why didn't you pack breakfast for all of them?" He had no answer. Right then, a familiar voice called out from the side. "Morning, Chloe." It was Liam. He was holding a paper bag from our favorite bakery. He walked up to me and smiled warmly. "You mentioned yesterday that you loved the sourdough sandwiches from the place downstairs. I passed by it this morning and grabbed one for you." He handed me the bag. I took it. It was still warm. I looked at Liam. He was wearing a clean white button-down, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking effortlessly put-together. He actually knew what kind of sandwiches I liked. We had only been working together for two years, yet he knew my tastes better than the man I had slept next to for five. I turned around to face my husband. I held up the paper bag Liam had just given me. "I prefer this breakfast." Ethan's eyes instantly turned red with fury. "You're cheating on me!" I looked him dead in the eye and spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. "I already asked for a divorce, Ethan. You're the one refusing to sign the papers. You don't get to call this cheating." With that, I turned on my heel and walked into the building. Liam followed half a step behind me, naturally positioning himself to block Ethan from coming any closer. My workday had barely started when I found myself in the main conference room, which was packed with people. I was in the middle of presenting our project proposal when a loud commotion erupted outside the glass doors. The door was slammed open. Ethan stood at the entrance, his eyes bloodshot, his hair a messy ruin. Two terrified receptionists were trying to hold him back. "Sir, you cannot go in there!" Every single person in the conference room turned to look. My department manager pushed up his glasses, his eyes darting back and forth between Ethan and me. I sat in my chair, holding the laser pointer, watching him barge in like an uncontrolled, rabid beast. "You are coming home with me right now. We are going to settle this." The room was so quiet you could hear the hum of the AC. I stood up, keeping my voice low and controlled. "I am in a meeting." "I don't give a damn about your meeting! You are leaving with me right now!" "By what right are you ordering me around?" Liam stood up from his seat, stepping in front of me. "Sir, we are in the middle of an official presentation. I'm going to have to ask you to leave—" "This has nothing to do with you! Are you the bastard who—" He didn't finish his sentence, but his glare was locked onto Liam. Liam remained perfectly calm, his expression unbothered. Within seconds, two security guards arrived, grabbing Ethan by his arms and dragging him out of the room. He struggled, thrashing wildly as he looked back at me, his voice carrying a desperate plea. "You can't treat me like this, Chloe! You know how much I've done for you!"The heavy glass door clicked shut. Silence returned to the conference room. Once the meeting was over, I packed up my laptop and walked back to my desk. My phone screen was lit up with twenty-three missed calls. All from him. There were also seventeen unread texts on Snapchat. The latest one read: "I just called your parents. You can explain this mess to them yourself." Staring at the screen, my fingers went completely cold. He actually dragged my parents into this. Did he think I would easily back down in front of them? Or did he think tattling to them would force me to apologize? I opened my contacts, but before I could tap on my mother's icon, her incoming call screen took over. "Chloe! Your father and I are worried sick! Your husband just called and said you were fooling around with some young guy from your office—" "Mom, listen to me first." "He said you want a divorce! What on earth is going on?" I stood up, walked into the private breakroom, and shut the door behind me. I placed the phone on the table and put it on speaker. I poured myself a glass of water and took a slow sip. "He made breakfast for a female coworker every single day for three years. He woke up an hour early to cook for her, plated it beautifully, and made sure she had fresh fruit." "What?" "Mom, that's over a thousand days. I was eating cheap, dry bagels while another woman was enjoying gourmet meals handcrafted by my husband." The other end of the line went dead silent for a few seconds. "Mom, I asked for a divorce. He refused, and then he barged into my office building and made a massive scene." "He went to your office?" "Just now. He interrupted my presentation, and security had to drag him out. Right after that, he called you to frame me for cheating." My mother's voice instantly hardened. "Sweetie, I’m on your side. Let's get you out of this marriage." We exchanged a few more words before hanging up. I leaned against the wall of the breakroom, finishing my water. When we got married, my dad had had a few drinks. With tears in his eyes, he had patted Ethan's shoulder and said: "She's my only daughter. You better treat her right." Ethan had replied, "I promise, sir. You have nothing to worry about." "Nothing to worry about." What a sick joke. After work, I drove back to our neighborhood. My hotel room was only booked for three nights, and staying there long-term wasn't a real solution. I needed to grab some clothes and my legal documents from the apartment. The garage lights were motion-activated. Since I drove in quietly, the lights didn't turn on. As I got out of my car, something caught my eye in the dimness. His car was parked not far away, headlights on. There was someone inside. I stepped back, hiding behind a concrete pillar. A woman was sitting in the passenger seat. She was leaning toward the driver's side, her hand resting comfortably on Ethan's shoulder. He didn't pull away. He even tilted his head, smiling softly at her. I raised my phone and took several crystal-clear photos. Then, I walked out from behind the pillar and knocked sharply on the passenger-side window. The woman startled, freezing in fear. Ethan whipped his head around, his face draining of all color. The window slowly rolled down. I smiled at her, then at him. "This must be your coworker with the delicate stomach. What's the matter? Did you guys need to digest your dinner in a dark car?" He didn't say a word, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. The woman frantically unbuckled her seatbelt, trying to push the door open to escape. I held the door shut with my hand. "Don't run off just yet. I haven't taken a picture to send to our parents."