Minha esposa me expulsou depois que recebi uma carta inesperada do diretor. Mas isso não foi o pior.
Meu nome é Christopher, e encontrei o amor da minha vida há meio ano. Ela é uma mulher de 30 anos, além de linda e inteligente.
Sou um profissional de TI comum que trabalha em uma empresa liderada por uma mulher de 30 anos e, nos últimos três anos, temos trabalhado juntos em um projeto de grande escala que exigiu muito de nós, intelectualmente e em termos de trabalho.
Minha esposa jogou minhas coisas para fora de casa. | Foto: Shutterstock
Este projeto deveria continuar por mais um ano e, se bem-sucedido, daria um impulso significativo às nossas carreiras. Eu definitivamente aproveitaria isso, pois significaria uma promoção ou talvez até melhores ofertas.
Eu ganhava o suficiente, é claro, mas em algum momento no passado, percebi que não se tratava mais do lucro para mim, mas sim do que eu podia fazer pelas pessoas para ajudá-las a resolver seus problemas — os técnicos, pelo menos.
Há poucos meses, minha diretora fez uma confissão que detalhava seus sentimentos por mim, e quando digo detalhada, é exatamente isso. Ela fez essa confissão por meio de um longo e-mail que recebi num sábado à noite — ela tinha bebido.
Dizer que fiquei chocado seria um eufemismo, porque eu jamais imaginaria que algo assim me aconteceria em um milhão de anos. Para mim, esse tipo de coisa se limitava a novelas.
Eu estava lendo a correspondência do meu chefe. | Foto: Getty Images
No e-mail, minha diretora revelou que estava apaixonada por mim durante a maior parte dos três anos em que trabalhamos juntos. Pensando bem, admito que ela pode ter me deixado algumas dicas, mas sempre achei que era o jeito dela de ser gentil e atenciosa.
Depois de ler o e-mail, chamei minha esposa para o meu espaço de trabalho, que era basicamente uma sala dedicada a todo o meu trabalho com tecnologia. Lá, ficam meus computadores e algumas comodidades que me permitiam trabalhar sem sair da minha zona de conforto.
Quando ela chegou, sentei-me com ela e contei-lhe sobre o e-mail interessante que acabara de receber do meu chefe.
“Você está demitido?!” ela adivinhou.
Por que ela pensaria isso?
“Claro que não”, respondi. “Olha só isso.”
Eu disse à minha esposa que ela precisava verificar o e-mail. | Foto: Getty Images
Ela leu o e-mail, mas apenas riu e voltou ao que estava fazendo antes de eu chamá-la. Depois disso, tudo ficou bem por um tempo, mas depois de uma semana, comecei a notar que ela evitava falar comigo.
Usei todos os truques possíveis para descobrir por que ela estava me ignorando, mas ela sempre dizia que estava tudo bem.
Mais uma semana se passou antes que ela finalmente se abrisse, e quando o fez, eu desejei ardentemente não ter insistido para saber. Naquele dia, ela me chamou de Christopher, então eu sabia que ela estava falando sério.
“Você precisa largar seu emprego”, ela disse.
Minha esposa me disse que eu precisava parar. | Foto: Getty Images
Fiquei tão atordoado que esqueci que estava de boca aberta e, quando me recuperei, não consegui parar de rir, o que, pensando bem, provavelmente foi uma péssima ideia.
“Isso acabaria com a minha carreira, querida”, eu disse descontraidamente.
Realmente não era uma opção que eu pudesse considerar. Preferiria que esse cenário nunca tivesse surgido, porque meu projeto, que consumiu muitos recursos e tempo, está em jogo.
Eu não tinha receio de que meu diretor forçasse a situação ou deixasse que isso afetasse nosso trabalho; nós dois sabíamos o que estava em jogo. Além disso, o e-mail parecia uma mulher desabafando, o que não posso contestar, pois faria o mesmo no lugar dela.
Fiquei chocado com a sugestão da minha esposa de que eu pedisse demissão. | Foto: Getty Images
É verdade que eu teria que pensar muito sobre como prosseguir com a dinâmica de trabalho, mas abandonar nosso projeto não era uma opção.
Tentei explicar isso para minha esposa, mas ela já tinha se decidido, e, cara, como ela era teimosa. Então, mais uma semana se passou, e minha esposa alternava entre ficar furiosa e me dar gelo. Ela também sugeriu várias vezes que eu saísse de casa para ficar com minha diretora, já que eu já passava muito tempo com ela.
E hoje, quando decidi ir para casa na hora do almoço, descobri que as fechaduras tinham sido trocadas e meus pertences estavam no pátio. Meu número do trabalho e meu celular estavam bloqueados no celular dela, então não consegui falar com ela também. Voltei ao trabalho num turbilhão de raiva. Como ela pôde fazer isso?
Tentei falar com a minha esposa, mas sem sucesso. | Foto: Getty Images
Ela me ligou vários dias depois, depois de me deixar em paz, e confessou que se sentia extremamente ansiosa cada vez que eu ia ao escritório, e tudo isso a sobrecarregou, levando-a a tomar essa decisão drástica. Ela também me deu um ultimato.
“Chris, você pode voltar assim que deixar seu emprego”, ela disse.
“Essa opção ainda está fora de cogitação!”, quase gritei.
Eu não conseguia largar meu emprego. | Foto: Getty Images
Depois de conversar com minha família sobre a confusão, lembrei-me de que eu era dono da casa da qual fui despejado. Então, comecei a ficar de olho na casa e, assim que ela saiu para a loja uma tarde, chamei um chaveiro para me ajudar a entrar.
Quando ela voltou, ficou furiosa ao me ver na sala. Gritou comigo e pediu que eu saísse de casa até entregar minha carta de demissão.
Contei a ela que havia notificado minha família sobre o que estava acontecendo e que eles insistiram no divórcio. Também contei que planejava ir ao tribunal no dia seguinte para entrar com o pedido e que ela tinha alguns dias para arrumar as malas.
Eu disse a ela que tinha terminado. | Foto: Getty Images
O que podemos aprender com a história?
- Confiança é recíproca. A esposa de Christopher não confiava nele e estava muito preocupada com a possibilidade de ele ceder ao convite aparentemente aberto do diretor. Ele confiou que ela não reagiria exageradamente quando lhe mostrasse a carta, mas ela se recusou a confiar nele para lidar com a situação, e isso pôs fim à união deles.
- Em caso de dúvida, ligue para a família. Christopher procurou a família quando as coisas ficaram complicadas, e eles o ajudaram a se virar, fazendo-o perceber que a casa da qual foi expulso era, na verdade, sua. Com o apoio deles, ele optou pelo divórcio, encerrando efetivamente o drama.
Compartilhe esta história com seus amigos e familiares. Ela pode alegrar o dia deles e inspirá-los.
Se você gostou desta história, talvez goste desta sobre uma garota que deixou o namorado por causa do trabalho dele.
Este relato é inspirado na história de nossa leitora, mas escrito por uma escritora profissional. Todos os nomes foram alterados para proteger suas identidades e garantir a privacidade.
My Daughter, 5, Brought Me a Picture from Her Dad’s Suitcase, but When I Saw It, I Fainted
When Emma’s mother found an odd ultrasound in her father’s purse, she thought the world would end. This resulted in a revelation at supper that fundamentally changed the dynamics inside their family.
The front door squeaked open, letting my husband Jack’s recognizable silhouette fill the entryway. He looked tired from his travels, and his shoulders were sagging with fatigue, but as soon as he stepped into our cozy home, his eyes lit up with relief.
The random array of briefcases, baggage, and other items thrown at the doorway was a chaotic memorial to his last business trip, belying the confusion of his return. One suitcase had his coat hanging loosely from it, while another had a tangle of charging cords sticking out of it, all of which were silently documenting his hectic trips between airports and appointments.
In the middle of this dispersed scene, our daughter Emma’s bright eyes shone with the unabashed delight that only a child’s innocence can portray. Her four-year-old’s world was awash with curiosity and discovery.
There was much excitement about her father’s return, rumored to hold stories and perhaps even a hidden treasure from his travels. Her small, delicate hands were often employed to investigate the world around her and find new puzzles to solve. Her curiosity was as boundless as the sky.
Emma’s happy laughter echoed throughout the home as she ran between the bags, her tiny feet barely making a sound on the luxurious carpet. Her golden locks bounced with each step, giving Jack’s sullen countenance a bright contrast. She was the life force of our home, filling every nook and cranny with brightness and energy and acting as a constant reminder of the love that had once formed the cornerstone of our family.
I observed her and felt a mixture of love and horror. Emma’s innocence shielded her from the complexities of adult emotions and the minor tensions that had crept into our marriage. But in her innocent joy and discovery, she was about to uncover a secret that would tear apart the carefully maintained façade of our family life.
The scene was set in the most banal way imaginable: our kid, the picture of pure wonder, tripping over the mess, our weary husband making his way home, and the scattered remnants of his trips all over our foyer.
We were unaware that this ordinary day would take an unexpected turn, revealing realities lurking beneath the surface of our daily lives and upending the very foundation of our relationship.
Then, among the jumble of business papers and trinkets, Emma’s hand was unexpectedly snagged by something. Her eyes widened as she produced a small piece of paper, a glimmer of triumph and curiosity flickering inside.
Holding her prize behind her back, she approached me with a cunning glee and her voice was a mix of surprise and mischief. She said, “Mommy, you’ll never guess what I found!”
She stood in front of me, her tiny hands revealing the object of her finding, an ultrasound image. Her little, delicate fingers were a striking contrast to the image’s stark black and white. It displayed an almost indistinguishable tiny fetus with distinctly human features. The image’s caption read, “Hey Daddy, I’m coming shortly.” T,” a message that cut through the warm fabric of our family’s existence like a cold knife.
A abyss of shock and astonishment descended onto my heart. The room seemed to tilt and swing as I took in the sight, and the ultrasound image solidified in my memory at every angle and contour. It was dated as recently as last week, at which time Jack was supposedly busy with meetings and business affairs. The truth of what I was seeing was vastly different from the world I thought I understood.
I experienced a torrent of emotions washing over me. A web of confusion, betrayal, and burning pain intertwined to tighten its grip around my throat. My mind raced, trying to put the disparate pieces of information that had soured our recent conversations about his trip together. There were clear ramifications to this ultrasound scan, but my heart refused not accept them.
Emma didn’t realize the range of feelings her revelation had brought about as she looked up at me with naive, hopeful eyes, waiting for my reply. Her face, which ordinarily brought me comfort and joy, now conveyed the picture of an unfamiliar world that I was ill-prepared to confront. All of the things we held dear, including love and daily routines, seemed to crumble in that moment, revealing a layer of dishonesty that threatened to engulf all we held dear.
With a whirlwind of anger and pain inside of me, I sat by myself in our bedroom, clutching the ultrasound image with trembling hands. My thoughts was a war zone, propelled by the need to confront Jack immediately and the want to come up with a plan that would reveal his sincere deceit. Although I wanted to scream and shatter the facade of normalcy, there was a part of me that longed for a more measured approach, a way to assess the depth of his treachery.
The image of Emma’s defenseless face juxtaposed with the depressing ultrasound image made me more determined. I needed to know if Jack regretted anything, if the man I’d loved was still out there somewhere, or if it was all just a dream. I took the difficult choice to come up with a plan that would expose the true nature of his sincerity and dedication.
I returned the original ultrasound to the spot where Emma had discovered it, ensuring that it was among Jack’s belongings and watching over it patiently for the right moment. Then, with a seemingly sad but also liberating conclusion, I staged a fictitious event to simulate Emma’s discovery but with a twist. I created a fake ultrasound image, identical to the one Emma found, with my initials on it, hoping to fabricate a tale that would force Jack to come clean.
The whole evening was put up to give the sense of deceptive normalcy, complete with candles lit on the table and the aroma of a delicious dinner permeating the air. He grinned as Jack came in, anticipating a passionate reunion but oblivious to the storm that was gathering beneath.
The dinner passed quickly, and with each bite, I felt my chest getting tighter and tighter until the inevitable conclusion. Finally, I appeared to be sensitive and held up the fake ultrasound, saying, “Dear, there will be four of us soon.” The air thickened with the words hanging between us like a baited trap waiting for its prey.
Jack initially expressed excitement and amazement, but as the situation dawned on him, his look changed to one of total bewilderment, and then terror. His face fell and tears flooded his eyes as he whispered, “Dear, you know everything, it was a mistake.” She doesn’t have my heart. While I’m staying with you, we will raise our newborn together.
His words, which were meant to be an appeal for forgiveness and were laced with desperation and regret, served only to highlight the awful truth of his adultery and the weakness of our shared past.
Jack’s confession came gushing out, a heartbreaking symphony of words pleading for pardon, and it transformed my life forever. His tears, which had formerly symbolized our shared joy and sorrow, were now springing from a deceitful well.
My heart was no longer the haven of love and trust, but rather a fortress of treachery and wrath. His pleas for forgiveness and his claims that he had only erred once echoed hollowly across the space between us.
With his voice breaking under the weight of his own words, Jack added, “It was just a moment of weakness; I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“A mistake in judgement?” I shot back, my voice strong but the tempest within of me scorching. Is it by that name that you mean? A moment that disregards our family’s fundamental principles and betrays years of mistrust?
He reached out, seeking the comfort of a touch that had once soothed and united us, but I pulled back, our physical distance now more than mere proximity. “Jack, I thought we had overcome the challenges. that when we banded together, we could conquer any challenge. But what about this? “This is a hurdle too high, a breach too deep,” I said, gesturing with unsteady hands still holding the fake ultrasound.
His attempts to justify his actions and paint it as a fleeting error only made me more determined. I had never seen the man before; his once-recognizable features had been clouded by lies and negligence. Remorse and despair were all on him.
My resolve solidified when the realization of his betrayal set in. I exclaimed, my principles breaking through the emotional fog, “Jack, I can’t forgive this.” “Trust and respect were the foundations of our marriage and family, and you have destroyed both.”
The room was heavy with the silences and the broken pieces of a life we would no longer share. Resolving to face the ruins of our mutual past and the uncertainty of my future with Emma, I gathered what little self-respect and resolve I still had.
In the silence that followed, I assembled the essentials, each one representing a facet of the life I was leaving behind—a life marred by betrayal but not defined by it. Emma was my beacon of hope because she remained untouched by the hard realities of growing up complicated. Her innocence reminded me of the pure love that was still inside of me.
As I closed the door behind me, the act’s finality served as a grim witness to our marriage’s disintegration. There lay a journey of self-discovery and healing for Emma and me, one that would culminate in an honest and accountable future.
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