Wife wish to husband but husband’s response is epic 

It had been a long, exhausting day for Sarah. The kind of day where everything that could go wrong did. The kids were fighting, the sink was clogged, and the dog had somehow managed to track mud all over the freshly cleaned floors. But what really pushed her over the edge was coming home to find her husband, Mark, sprawled on the couch, beer in hand, watching a football game he didn’t even care about. Again.

She had asked him—no, begged him—to help around the house more. To be present. To be a partner. But it was like talking to a brick wall. Every promise he made evaporated into thin air, leaving her to pick up the pieces. And today, something inside her snapped.

Without a word, Sarah stormed upstairs, grabbed Mark’s suitcase from the closet, and started throwing his clothes into it. Socks, shirts, pants—everything went in haphazardly. Her hands trembled with anger, but her resolve was steel. She was done. Done with the excuses, done with the laziness, done with feeling like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders alone.

When she came back downstairs, suitcase in hand, Mark barely looked up from the TV. “What’s that for?” he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t noticed the storm brewing in her eyes.

“You’re leaving,” Sarah said, her voice cold and steady. She dropped the suitcase at his feet. “Get out.”

That got his attention. He sat up, the remote slipping from his hand. “Wait, what? You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” she shot back. “I’m done, Mark. I’m done with you, with this marriage, with everything. Just go.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, stunned. Then, slowly, he stood up, his face a mix of confusion and defiance. “Fine,” he muttered, grabbing the suitcase. “If that’s what you want.”

As he walked toward the door, Sarah felt a surge of emotions—anger, sadness, frustration—all bubbling to the surface. And before she could stop herself, the words spilled out, sharp and venomous. “I hope you die,” she yelled, her voice cracking. “A long, slow, painful death.”

Mark froze, his hand on the doorknob. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Then, slowly, he turned around, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “you want me to fucking stay?”

Sarah’s jaw dropped. Of all the responses she had expected, that wasn’t one of them. For a split second, she was too stunned to speak. And then, against her will, a laugh escaped her lips—a short, incredulous burst of laughter that broke the tension like a hammer to glass.

Mark raised an eyebrow, the smirk still firmly in place. “What? You can’t have it both ways, Sarah. Either you want me gone, or you want me here. Which is it?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. The truth was, she didn’t know. She was angry, yes, but beneath that anger was a deep, aching sadness. She didn’t want him to leave—she wanted him to change. To be the man she knew he could be. But was that even possible?

Mark set the suitcase down and took a step toward her. “Look,” he said, his voice softer now. “I know I’ve been a jerk. I know I haven’t been there for you the way I should’ve been. But if you really want me to go, I’ll go. Just say the word.”

Sarah looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. For the first time in a long time, she saw something in his eyes—remorse, maybe, or determination. Or both. And in that moment, she realized that as much as she wanted to hate him, she couldn’t. Not completely.

“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t keep doing this, Mark. I can’t keep feeling like I’m in this alone.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “I get it. And I’ll do better. I swear. Just… give me a chance.”

Sarah took a deep breath, her anger slowly giving way to something else—hope, maybe. Or the faintest glimmer of it. “You’ve got one chance,” she said finally. “Don’t screw it up.”

Mark smiled—a real smile this time—and pulled her into a hug. “I won’t,” he promised. “I swear, I won’t.”

And as they stood there, holding each other in the middle of their messy living room, Sarah couldn’t help but wonder if this was the start of something new—or just another false promise. Only time would tell.