For years, I believed my husband was working tirelessly in his home office. Turns out, his “hustle” was just an elaborate excuse to avoid responsibility—and it cost him everything.
Jake always acted like he was on the verge of a big career breakthrough. He’d disappear for hours, insisting he was in “back-to-back meetings” or “crunching numbers.” Meanwhile, I juggled two kids, a part-time job, and a mountain of unpaid bills, all while keeping the house quiet for his “work.”
Then, one afternoon, everything changed.
The kids were being loud—because, well, they’re kids—and Jake burst out of his office, screaming about how I was ruining his “important meeting.” But when I peeked inside, I didn’t see spreadsheets or video calls with clients. I saw an online game and a flirty chat with someone named Suzy.
“You’ve been lying to me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jake didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. “You’re so boring,” he snapped. “Suzy actually makes me happy.”
Two days later, his mom called with the punchline: Suzy was a catfish—a middle-aged man who’d been scamming Jake out of money.
I filed for divorce that week.
Now, I’m raising our kids on my own, and for the first time in years, I’m not drowning under Jake’s lies. Some “workaholics” are just lazy partners in disguise.
