I Used to Accuse My Husband of Living in My House—One Weekend He Packed His Bags and Left

I gave my husband an earful, accusing him of living in my flat. One weekend, he quietly packed his bags and left.

Not long ago, my family and I visited the countryside and heard an intriguing story. Its about Victoria, once the wife of Peter. Their marriage endured more than twenty years. I dont know every detail of their lives, just what the locals shared with me.

After their wedding, Victorias parents gifted the young couple a flat. At that time, Peter worked in a furniture workshop, while Victoria held a post in administration. Their wages werent badmoney was never really a problem. Peter was good with his hands, taking care of everything that needed doing in their new home.

They only had one child, a son named Henryblessed with neither the best manners nor the warmest disposition. He was troublesome and brash. Victoria always let him do as he pleased, while Peter tried desperately to set some boundaries. This difference in parenting led to constant conflict. Peter wanted his son to grow into a self-reliant and responsible man.

When Henry was still very young, Peter would coax him to help with odd jobs. He insisted everyone should know how to use their hands and tackle practical bits of life, like mending things. Henry was interested for a time, but soon lost the spark.

Victoria, on the other hand, took a softer line. She assured Henry he neednt dirty his hands, and that manual work simply wasnt for him. She showered him with expensive gifts. Over time, Henry became terribly lazy and used to having everything at his fingertips without lifting a finger.

All of this deeply strained the marriage. Shouting matches became routine. Eventually, Henry finished school and went off to university. His parents paid his tuition, but he loathed studying and his marks were abysmal.

Well, look what we have here, Peter would grumble. He doesnt want to do a thing! Hes content to have it all handed to him. What, are you going to find him a job too? No, let him weigh you down. Thats best for everyone!

Why just me? Victoria shot back, Hes your son too.

Hes no child anymore; in a few months hell be eighteen! Hes a grown man. Let him find his own way. I warned you, but you never listened. I couldve made him a proper man. But you wouldnt let me. And what have you ended up raising?

Are you happy with your life? she hissed. Youve been living in my flat for years and still cant be bothered to buy your own. Grand job and grand lectures! And you think you have the right to tell me how to bring up my son.

Thats exactly my point! Peter retorted, wounded. I never thought Id hear you throw the flat in my face. Let me remind you, love, that the keys were given to us as a wedding gift. I always thought it was ours, not just yours! I gave all I had to this place. Look how well weve done! Not everyones so lucky. And yet you say things like that? I never expected it of you.

Victoria let out a weary sigh and left the room. After that row, their marriage began unraveling for good. Henry sided with his mother and ignored his fathers pleas for help, always pretending to be occupied with this or that. Peter eventually realised that his family no longer needed him.

One weekend, he quietly packed up and left. It turned out hed spent years putting away money with a dream of buying his own cottagea peaceful place for his golden years, maybe by a winding river. Peter moved to our village. Within a few months, he fixed up a new home for himself. There, he met a new woman, Elainea widow. Two years have passed, and they now share their lives together.

And as for Victoria and Henry? Neither has reached outnot a phone call, nothing. Thats just how life goes sometimes.