I met Kyle in college. He was studying programming, and I was pursuing law. Our paths crossed at a coffee shop, sparking an instant connection. We got married a year later, juggling classes and part-time jobs. Soon after, we had our first child, and by the time I graduated, I was pregnant with our second.

“I’ll take care of everything, Chelsea. You just focus on being an amazing mom,” Kyle said. I trusted him completely, but ten years and two kids later, our relationship had changed drastically.

Kyle’s attitude towards money changed. When I asked for money to buy my mom a gift, he refused. “It’s my money, Chelsea. If you want to spend on someone other than our family, you need to earn it,” he said. I decided to teach him a lesson.

That evening, Kyle found the house in disarray with no dinner prepared. I left a note: “I am earning my own money, so make your own dinner.”

Kyle was furious but I stood my ground. “I’ve decided to resume my studies and work. If you want dinner, you’ll have to cook it yourself,” I said. I balanced my studies, work, and household chores, impressing Kyle with my capability. On my mom’s birthday, I bought her a gift with my own money. Kyle tried to give me cash, but I refused.

Our conflicts escalated, leading me to move out. “Consider this separation a chance to reflect on your actions,” I wrote. In therapy, Kyle confessed he’d been investing our savings in risky ventures without telling me. This breach of trust was hard to overcome. Despite efforts, our marriage ended in an amicable divorce.

I threw myself into my career, becoming a successful lawyer. The journey was challenging, but it led me to a place of strength and self-assurance. As I stood in my office one evening, I whispered to myself, “You did it, Chelsea.”