He Lived for Overtime, I Cashed Him Out

My husband, who had always come home on time, suddenly got promoted and became obsessed with working overnight.

When his mother, Helen Miller, was critically ill and called to see him one last time, he brushed it off impatiently.

“She’s had flare-ups of her old illness so many times. She won’t die this time either. Stop bothering me!”

At our daughter Lily’s kindergarten graduation ceremony, she waited eagerly for him to show up, but he made another excuse.

“Does such a trivial event really require me to be there? Don’t you know I’m busy making money for you and the family?”

I finally couldn’t bear it anymore and asked for a divorce. Instead, he threw a stack of cash in my face.

“I work overnight every single day, and it’s all for you and this family. And you still have the nerve to ask for a divorce?”

Calmly, I took out a video. Jason’s face turned pale on the spot, while I smiled brightly.

“Honey, since you’re so good at making money, why don’t I negotiate on your behalf and sell you at a higher price?”

It had been a month since his promotion. Every night Jason worked until five in the morning before coming home.

Looking at his exhausted body, pale face, and dark circles, my own heart was filled with despair.

“I don’t want to argue anymore, but right now, whether you’re here or not, this family is the same. Let’s just end it.”

Jason, who had been cold-faced, suddenly exploded and slapped me across the face.

“Rachel Evans, are you out of your mind? Just because I work overnight every day, you want a divorce?”

“My mom was critically ill, but she pulled through, didn’t she? And Lily’s kindergarten graduation went just fine without me, didn’t it?”

“I’m working myself to the bone, all for you and this family, and you still dare to ask for a divorce?”

Jason’s chest heaved with rage, his eyes glaring at me like a furious beast.

Relatives and friends who had come to mediate all pointed at me with disapproval.

“What’s wrong with Rachel? Jason has been working so hard for this family, and she still wants a divorce?”

“Exactly, he used to make just $8,000 a month, and now his salary suddenly jumped to $50,000. What more could she possibly want?”

“She’s just being spoiled. Her husband is breaking his back for her, and instead of being grateful, she’s complaining!”

I ignored their ignorant chatter and pointed to the divorce papers on the table.

“You’ve hit me, insulted me, but I still want a divorce. Just sign.”

Helen, sitting in her wheelchair, finally lost her temper, slapping the armrest loudly.

“Rachel Evans, are you crazy? My son is handsome and now he’s making so much money—how could he possibly not be good enough for you?”

My mother, Margaret Evans, was also furious, stomping her feet and shouting at me.

“Rachel Evans, you troublemaker! Back then, if you wanted a divorce because Jason didn’t make enough money, fine. But now he’s been promoted to Vice President, making $50,000 a month, and you still dare talk about divorce? What face do you have left?”

Faced with so much blame, my eyes turned red with tears, but I couldn’t utter a single word.

No one knew why I had to choose divorce at the very moment Jason’s career was on the rise.

Jason and I had been together from high school sweethearts to marriage. We were the only people each other had ever truly loved.

For him, I gave up a high-paying job and my own dreams, choosing to stay at home to support him and raise our child.

He had treated me very well—during my periods, he never let me touch cold water and even washed my underwear by hand.

Though he didn’t make much, he never stopped surprising me with little gifts and sweet gestures.

And after Lily was born, whenever she cried at night, he would get up himself to feed her so I could sleep.

After eight years of marriage, just when we had finally made it through to see him succeed, I suddenly asked for a divorce.

Even I could hardly believe the decision I had made.