When Aaron was dating me, he was attentive, hardworking, and kind. I felt like the luckiest woman alive when he proposed! But almost immediately after our honeymoon, he began to change.
It started with small things — skipping date nights to play video games, neglecting the dishes for days, and abandoning our morning coffee ritual. Before we married, he’d always wake me with coffee, a hug, and a silly joke. It was one of the many ways he made me feel loved.
Yet, three years into our marriage, I couldn’t remember the last time he did something thoughtful just to make me smile.
Looking back, I should have addressed it sooner. But isn’t that always the case? You convince yourself it’s just a phase, that things will improve, and that marriage means sticking together through tough times.
So I stayed quiet, hoped for the best, and pretended all was well.
Until one Tuesday night, when everything started to unravel.
Aaron came home, flopped onto the couch, and complained about work. “Nobody appreciates me there. I crushed the analytics report and didn’t even get a thank you,” he said, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers.
I put down my laptop and comforted him, even though we’d had this conversation countless times in the past month. “It’ll get better, babe.”
He shook his head. “Only if I do something.”
And he did — he stormed into work the next day and told his boss off, without any backup plan or new job lined up.
I took over paying the bills, thinking it was temporary. We were a team, right? I showed him where I kept some cash in a drawer, just in case.
“This is for emergencies only,” I warned. “We have to be careful until you find another job. No more generosity for now.”
He nodded.
Aaron had always loved spoiling those he cared about — me, his mom, his sister. But now, only his mom and sister were getting expensive gifts.
Months passed. Instead of job hunting, Aaron spent his time playing video games and watching YouTube videos about becoming a crypto millionaire. His “amazing opportunities” never turned into interviews.
Meanwhile, I worked overtime to keep us afloat, coming home to a messy house and a husband more interested in his controller than me.
One Friday, my boss surprised me with a $2,500 bonus for my hard work. I was thrilled and hoped this would inspire Aaron to get serious about finding a job.
He hugged me and said, “You deserve it, babe,” but there was something off about his tone — too sweet, like a child being suspiciously well-behaved.
Then came the dreadful dinner with my mother-in-law, Ruth.
If you hate judgmental in-laws, multiply that feeling by ten — that’s Ruth.
She barged in like she owned the place, inspecting everything and criticizing my cooking and cleaning.
Then I noticed the brand-new iPhone 16 Pro Max on the table by her. My heart sank.
“Oh wow, a new phone! Who’s the lucky giver?” I asked.
Ruth beamed. “Aaron got it for me. He knows how to treat his mommy right.”
I immediately suspected where Aaron got the money but waited for proof.
I excused myself and rushed to the drawer where I kept emergency cash — it was empty.
Three thousand dollars I had saved for emergencies and our future — gone.
I wanted to scream, but instead, I composed myself, reapplied my makeup, and returned to the table with a Mona Lisa smile.
If Aaron thought he could steal from me to spoil his “witch” of a mother, he was wrong.
Two days later, I had my chance.
Aaron had been dropping hints about wanting a new high-end gaming laptop. One night, as we sat on the couch, he said, “Maybe I could use some of your bonus for a new laptop. Mine’s on its last legs.”
I smiled sweetly and said, “Funny you mention that—I already bought you the best gaming laptop.”
I pulled out my phone, showed him the order confirmation email, and watched his eyes light up.
“Wow, when will it arrive?” he asked.
“Oh, it arrived this morning,” I said, savoring the moment.
“Where is it?”
I leaned back and said, “I sent it to your mom. She could use it to play Candy Crush.”
His face turned pale, and he jumped off the couch. “You gave my mom my laptop?”
I crossed my arms. “So it’s bad when I buy your mom things with my own money? But it was fine when you did it behind my back.”
It took him a moment to realize what was happening.
“Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll return the phone and pay you back,” he said, running his hands through his hair.
“Good,” I replied. “You’ll put the money into my new bank account. You won’t have access to my money anymore.”
He tried to protest, but I stood firm, holding a printed job offer I’d been saving.
“Enjoy the job hunt, honey. Your gravy train just ended.”
In the following days, Aaron apologized repeatedly, and Ruth called him furious.
“How dare you treat my son like that!” she screamed.
“You don’t steal from the person paying your bills,” I told her simply.
Aaron landed a job within two weeks. Turns out, losing the safety net lights a fire under you.
Now, I’m not sure what comes next. Maybe marriage counseling, if he’s willing to work on us. But one thing is certain — Aaron will never touch my money again.
If he tries anything else, I have a feeling Ruth won’t be too happy about it either.