The Pretentious Artist’s Regret: Divorcing My Selfish Husband

Because I asked my husband to change our sons diaper, he gave me the silent treatment and slept in his study for three days.

I made his favorite dinner, hoping to make peace, but I froze at the study door.

At some point, the traditional doorknob had been replaced with a smart keypad lock.

Trembling, I entered our wedding anniversary, then our sons birthday

All incorrect. Until, guided by some ghost of a suspicion, I entered her birthday.

The lock clicked. The door swung open.

His study was spotless and elegantly decorated.

The piano by the window was dust-free. Stacks of handwritten letters were neatly arranged.

My eyes stung, and a wave of exhaustion washed over me.

So, it wasn't that he didnt have time. He just didn't want to spare a single second for me and our son.

I stood at the doorway, but I lost the courage to step inside.

I remembered the night I had a raging fever and begged him to watch our baby for just half a day.

To my horror, less than five minutes after taking him, he dumped our crying son back into my arms.

Then, he locked himself in his study for the rest of the afternoon.

The baby cried hysterically, but Julian acted like he was completely deaf.

I coughed until my chest burned, and he didnt show a shred of concern.

In the end, I had to drag my sick body out of bed to take care of our baby.

Because I hadn't fully recovered, I ended up passing the flu to my son.

During that time, my life was a living hell. I didn't get a single night of decent sleep.

Even though we lived under the same roof, Julian didn't offer a single word of comfort.

He kept himself locked in his study, playing the piano and painting.

Nothing could interrupt his precious leisure time.

Whenever I asked him to help with chores, he would reject me with self-righteous anger.

"Chloe, can you stop picking fights? You know this is my scheduled time for writing poetry. I don't have time for chores!"

"Chloe, its just a small chore. Why cant you just do it yourself? Why do you have to annoy me?"

Because of this, we had countless screaming matches.

Every single time, I was the one crying hysterically.

Meanwhile, Julian would look at me with a cold face and ask, "Chloe, does it pain you to see me relaxing for even a second?"

Over time, I started to blame myself. I wondered if I was truly just a bitter, narrow-minded wife who couldn't stand her husbands happiness.

So, to avoid more fights, I took over everything.

Housework, childcare, endless errandsI carried it all alone.

I was naive enough to think I had found the secret to a peaceful marriage.

But today, looking at this room, I realized how incredibly stupid and pathetic I had been.

It wasn't that Julian didn't know how to do these things. He just didn't want to.

He didn't want to spend a single drop of energy on me, on our son, or on this home.

He only cared about protecting his personal sanctuary from any disturbance.

As for everything else? He didn't give a damn.

My gaze eventually fell on an unfinished oil painting on his easel.

With just a few strokes, the figure on the canvas was rendered lifelike. It was obvious how much passion and care went into it.

The questions that had plagued me for years suddenly had an answer.

It was simple: My son and I were just not worth his effort.

My heart ached terribly. I was about to close the door when hurried footsteps cut me off.

Julian ran in, panting, with beads of sweat on his forehead.

"Chloe! What are you doing in my study? How many times have I told you not to come in here? Do you just live to make my life miserable?!"

I opened my mouth to explain, but nothing came out.

As his wife, being forbidden from entering my own husband's room made me feel like a joke.

To Julian, my silence was a confession of guilt.

He shoved me out of the way in a fit of rage. Unprepared, I stumbled and banged my hip hard against the doorframe. A sharp pain made me gasp.

Julian didn't even look at me. He rushed past me into the room, checking to see if I, the intruder, had ruined his precious sanctuary.

Once he saw everything was untouched, he immediately locked the door and reset the passcode right in front of my face.

Done, he turned to me, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Chloe, I hope this is the first and last time!"

Holding back the tears and the pain in my hip, I stood up straight.

"Julian, do you have nothing to explain to me?"

Julian sneered. "What's there to explain? Just because we're married doesn't mean I don't get a right to privacy!"

"Chloe, do you even know what boundaries are?"

My heart sank into a dark, empty pit. "Julian, what do my son and I actually mean to you?"

Julian frowned, giving me that familiar, irritated "here we go again" look.

"Chloe, can you stop making a mountain out of a molehill? Do you have any idea how exhausting and unattractive you are when you act like this?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "Oh? And who is attractive to you then? Vivian?"

Julians face went pale. "You saw the painting! Chloe, do you have any respect for privacy at all?!"

I refused to back down. "And what about you, Julian? You lock yourself in this room all day, ignoring me and our son. Do you have any respect for your responsibilities as a father and a husband?"

Julian's face flushed with anger. "You are completely delusional!"

With that, he turned on his heel to leave.

Those words ignited the rage I had suppressed for years.

I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Julian! You are not leaving this house until you explain yourself!"

Julian looked down at me with pure disdain. "Explain to you? As if youd even understand."

"Vivian is the creative director of a major art gallery. She has handled thousands of masterpieces over the years. You're just a housewife, Chloe. How can you even compare to her?"

His words felt like a poisoned arrow piercing right through my heart.

Blinking back tears, I raised my voice. "Julian, we went to the exact same college! I sacrificed my career to take care of you, our son, and this house! Even if you don't love me, you should at least respect my sacrifice! How dare you look down on me!"

Julian let out a mocking laugh. "So what? Look at yourself now. All you do is worry about groceries, dirty diapers, and dinner. Youve been out of touch with the real world for years. Honestly, I'm the only one who would tolerate you. You should be grateful, Chloe."

My heart shattered. "Julian, do you really not know why I couldn't go back to work?"

Julian sneered. "Whatever the reason, it was your own choice. Stop trying to guilt-trip me."

I stared at him in utter disbelief. I couldn't believe he actually thought this way.

"Julian, when my maternity leave ended and I wanted to go back to work, your parents refused to help. You said you didn't trust strangers to babysit. What was I supposed to do?!"

At the mention of his parents, Julian got even angrier. "Leave my parents out of this! They're old and in poor health. Besides, you're the mother. If you don't take care of the kid, who will?"

"And what about you? Aren't you his father?!"

Julian snapped, "Chloe, stop being hysterical! We had a clear division of labor: I work outside, you take care of the home. Isn't that fair?"

"I work hard all day at my job. In my limited free time, I just want to do what I love. Why do you have to be so incredibly selfish?!"

"I'm selfish?"

I pointed at my own chest, laughing in sheer disbelief.

"Julian, do you hear yourself?"

"Every little thing in this house is done by me. If it weren't for me carrying your weight, where would you get the time to paint, write, and enjoy your peaceful life?"

Julian waved his hand dismissively. "If you don't want to do it, then don't. Stop acting like you're some kind of martyr."

"This is exactly why you can't compare to Vivian. She always focuses on finding solutions instead of constantly whining and complaining."

I wanted to solve problems too. But household chores are a never-ending cycle, not a one-time fix.

From start to finish, he simply refused to see my sacrifice. He refused to acknowledge my value.

Deeply exhausted, I suddenly lost all desire to argue with him.

Suppressing the pain in my chest and the tears in my eyes, I turned around and walked back to my bedroom alone, leaving him standing there. It was the first time I had ever walked away first.

The next morning, I had to pick up my son from my mothers place.

I got up early, dressed nicely, and made myself a simple breakfast.

A few minutes later, Julian walked out of his study, yawning.

Seeing the empty dining table, his face darkened. "Where's my breakfast?"

I swallowed my last bite of toast and spoke in a cold, professional tone. "The ingredients are in the fridge. If you're hungry, make it yourself."

Julians face twisted in anger. "Chloe, are you really going to keep playing these childish games? Do you seriously think I can't survive without you?"

My face remained neutral. I put my plate in the sink, walked right past him, and headed for the door.

Julian yelled behind me, "Fine, Chloe! Go ahead! Just don't come crying to me when you regret this!"

My response was the loud, final thud of the front door closing.

That afternoon, I took my son out to eat.

Around dinner time, Julian actually sent me a Snapchat messagea rare occurrenceasking when we would be back.

I read it but didn't reply. I took my time, enjoying a nice dinner with my son before slowly heading home.

When I carried my son through the front door, I saw Julian sitting at the dining table. He had cooked a nice three-course meal for himself and was eating greedily.

Seeing me walk in, he let out a loud, mocking snort.

I didn't even look at him. I carried my son straight to the bedroom.

After putting my son to sleep, I went to the laundry room to collect the clothes. I only folded my sons and mine.

Julian, who was watching from the hallway, snapped, "Chloe, do you really have to be this dramatic over a stupid fight?"

I ignored him, walked past him, and returned to my room.

When I came out after putting the clothes away, Julian had left a pile of dirty dishes on the table and locked himself in his study again.

This time, I didn't care. I went straight to the kitchen to prepare dinner for my son and myself.

As the scent of my cooking filled the apartment, Julian opened his study door.

Seeing our son sitting on the play mat, Julian did something completely out of character. He picked him up and started playing with him, constantly glancing at me to make sure I was watching.

When I finished cooking, I set the table with only two sets of forks and platesfor me and my son.

Julian stood there, holding our baby, his face turning red with anger.

"Chloe, what the hell is this supposed to mean?!"

I took my son from his arms and threw his own words back at him in the same cold tone.

"If you want to eat, make it yourself."

Julian laughed in pure anger. "Fine, Chloe. You're really something!"

I ignored him completely, put my son in his high chair, and focused on feeding him.

Julian stood there for a few more minutes, hoping I would back down. When I didn't even look up, he stormed back into his study, slamming the door.

I didn't try to please him. After we finished, I scraped the leftovers straight into the trash.

If he was hungry, he could feed himself.

Before, I had been foolishly worried about his health, rushing home from miles away just to cook him a fresh meal. No more.

The next morning, I turned off my alarm. I snuggled with my son and slept in, not caring when Julian left for work.

Over the next few days, Julian and I lived like strangers in a silent war.

The explosion finally happened when Julian realized his dirty laundry had been sitting in the basket for three days.

He grabbed the laundry basket, marched into the living room, and dumped it on the floor in front of me.

"Chloe, what is your problem?!" he roared.

I calmly stepped over to my son's room, shut the door to protect his ears, and turned to Julian. "Didn't you say it yourself? If I don't want to do it, I don't have to."

Julian choked on his rage. "Then I guess I don't have to pay for the household expenses either, right?!"

I shrugged, completely unfazed. "Do whatever you want."

For years, most of his income had been spent on his "artistic" lifestyle anyway. The allowance he gave me barely covered the groceries.

If I hadn't been doing freelance graphic design work on the side to support us, my son and I would have been on the streets long ago.

"Fine! You're really pushing it, Chloe!"

Julian kicked the laundry basket across the room and locked himself back in his study.

My heart felt absolutely nothing. I turned off the TV, walked into my bedroom, and went to sleep with my son.

In the middle of the night, I woke up to get a glass of water. Looking out toward the balcony, I saw Julian standing in the moonlight, pouring detergent into the washing machine.

His white work shirts were already freshly hand-washed, hanging on the rack and blowing in the wind.

A bitter sting hit my chest.

So, he did know how to do laundry. He did know how to wash clothes. He just chose not to.

The next day, I dropped my son off at daycare. I went home, polished my resume, and started looking for full-time jobs online.

Julian was surprisingly sitting in the living room. Seeing me busy at my laptop, he crept over.

When he saw I was looking at job postings, he immediately sneered.

"Chloe, you've been a housewife for years. What kind of job do you think you can actually get?"

I didn't reply. I grabbed my printed resume, walked right past him, and headed out for my interview.

Julians face twisted into an even uglier scowl.

After the interview, I rushed to the daycare to pick up my son.

On the way back, I got a text from Julian: [I have a friend coming over tonight. Make a nice dinner.]

I didn't want to embarrass him in front of his guests, so I stopped by the supermarket and bought groceries.

But when I carried the heavy bags and my son through the front door, my blood ran cold with rage.