My husband, Robert, had always supported my work trips. He didn’t mind taking care of our two young kids while I was away. But this time, everything changed—and not in the way I expected.
Just weeks earlier, Robert had flown overseas on short notice. No discussion, no problem. I stayed behind, managing early mornings, late meetings, and the everyday chaos that comes with two kids under six. I didn’t complain.
I had my own two-day work retreat coming up. It had been scheduled for six months. This wasn’t just a conference—it was an opportunity. A moment where my growing role at the company would be seen and recognized.
Robert had been on board the entire time. We discussed it more than once. He agreed to handle the school drop-offs and bedtime routines.
Then, the night before I was supposed to leave, he sent a text:
“You need to cancel your trip.”
I called him immediately, confused.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why now?”
But he wouldn’t explain. He just kept saying,
“I don’t want you to go. I’ll be beyond mad if you do. And I’m not taking the kids to school if you leave.”
We live in New York. School is a short walk. This wasn’t about logistics.
His voice was cold, then suddenly softened.
“I just need you to stay this once. Take care of me.”
He brought up a recent surgery—a minor procedure. He had seemed fine all week. Active. Normal. But now, just hours before my trip, he claimed he wasn’t fully healed.
“I don’t ask for much. Please.”
It threw me. For weeks, he hadn’t hinted at needing help. And he’d managed an international trip himself without issue. Now that it was my turn to leave, everything changed.
The more he spoke, the more unsettled I felt.
“Your trip is stupid,” he finally said.
That stung. I’ve always shown up for my family, for him. And now, something I’d worked toward was being dismissed. I couldn’t help but wonder:
Was this really about recovery—or about control?