When I opened the door and saw a woman in her twenties standing on my doorstep with a suitcase and an overly confident smile, I didn’t believe that she could wreck my morning any more than the typical chaos that occurs when four children and a book from the library go missing. Then, however, she informed me that she was going to move into my house, which is also our home, and that my ex-husband had given it to her as a gift for her engagement. My realization came at that moment: Ethan was not merely irresponsible; he was also crazy. In addition, if he believed that I would silently hand over the house that I had for my children to his arm candy fiancée, he was about to find out precisely who he had married.
It had been ten years since Ethan and I had lived together. A marriage that appeared to be healthy on the surface but had lain dormant for a considerable amount of time from the inside out. He was dishonest and lied much more than he cheated. While he seeks fulfillment in other places, I ensured that our home was working smoothly. When I discovered an earring belonging to another person in our family automobile, I knew that I had reached my limit. He was accosted by me. Neither of them denied it. Rather than that, he mumbled in a casual manner, “Perhaps we ought to consult with attorneys.” And just like that, our family fell apart like a garment that had become more threadbare.
Due to the fact that I did not want the divorce to become a judicial drama, it did not become one. It was strongly recommended to me by my attorney that I take Ethan for everything he had. It wasn’t me. Simply put, I desired consistency for my children. I chose to remain inside the house. “The children require consistency,” he concurred, saying that it made perfect sense. “I’ll look for a place that is closer to my place of employment.” He appeared to be relieved. It was as if he had finished acting the part of a father.
Over the course of two years, I made that place our secure haven. During the period that Ethan was transitioning into his new life, I worked at a clinic, prepared school lunches, assisted with homework, and dealt with every skinned knee and missed bedtime that my son had. After that, the new life suddenly rang my doorbell, seemingly out of nowhere.
She went by the name Sarah. She had the appearance of having stepped out of an Instagram advertisement; her hair was exquisite, her makeup was flawless, and she exuded an aura of entitlement that was like perfume. “I am Ethan’s long-term partner,” she chirped. “I’ve come to take a look at the house that we’ll be moving into!”
My first assumption was that she was using the incorrect address.
It was not her.
By her own account, Ethan had presented her with the house as a gift. “Isn’t it romantic?” she asked as she was outlining how my children would adjust to the new environment. In order to determine whether or not her sectional would be able to fit in the living room, which is the same space in which my children unwrapped their Christmas presents, she even brought a measuring tape.
I instructed her to depart. She did not agree.
As a result, I slammed the door in her face and started calling Ethan.
Neither of them denied it. Indeed, he increased his efforts. Flatly, he stated, “From a legal standpoint, it is still my house.” “I require it to be returned.”
Have you lost it? To what end? An undertaking on Pinterest?
I glanced around at the walls that were marked with the growth of my children, the handprints that were painted on the cement patio, and the artwork that was still attached to the refrigerator, and I made the decision that I would not give up without a fight.
It wasn’t me that requested the house. My request was for justice.
During the court proceeding, I presented everything, including bank statements, receipts, records of school events, and medical expenses. Evidence that I had been working alone to raise four children while Ethan was playing house with someone who couldn’t tell the difference between a manicure and a mortgage.
Not only did the judge listen, but he also took action.
He increased Ethan’s child support payments by a factor of three. In excess of the amount that the house would have cost him. The judge is quoted as saying, “What is unreasonable is expecting someone else to raise your children for free while you start a new family.”
Because of that verdict, we were forced to move in with my mother. There were six people squeezed into her small abode, with the children sleeping on air mattresses and myself sleeping on the floor. On the other hand, it was warm, and we had it. Moreover, something within me began to shift gradually.
A better position as an office manager was available to me. Used up every last dime. I was able to save enough money to purchase our own apartment within a period of six months. It was a modest three-bedroom apartment with a large backyard and windows that let in sunlight and hope.
During the time that I was showing the children our new house, Emma inquired, “Is this really ours?” In addition, I was honest with her and assured her, “No one can take it away.”
Ethan emailed me after a period of six months had passed.
It was written in the subject line, “I Was Wrong.”
According to reports, Sarah had transformed the residence into a commercial enterprise by renting out rooms on Airbnb and transforming his office into a nail shop. “You’re not a catch, Ethan,” she told him directly in front of his face. Simply put, you have some beautiful things.”
It was a broken engagement on his part. Returned the house to the buyer. All he wrote was, “Come home.” At this point, legally speaking, it is yours.
It’s not even that I responded.
Because the house could no longer be considered home.
Laughter, Lego blocks, and sticky hands were all things that could be found in the cluttered, little apartment that served as home. When they got home, Emma was helping Lily with her homework, while Jake was constructing forts out of cushions from the couch. It was my home that provided me with strength.
In the moment that he put his own comfort ahead of the lives of our children, Ethan gave up that opportunity. As a result, he is able to keep his residence.
That is not going to happen.
I didn’t only safeguard the future of my children; I actually built it. Step by step, paycheck after paycheck, and tear by tear, block by brick. And this time, we are the ones who receive it