Minha esposa me expulsou depois que recebi uma carta inesperada do diretor. Mas isso não foi o pior.
Meu nome é Christopher, e encontrei o amor da minha vida há meio ano. Ela é uma mulher de 30 anos, além de linda e inteligente.
Sou um profissional de TI comum que trabalha em uma empresa liderada por uma mulher de 30 anos e, nos últimos três anos, temos trabalhado juntos em um projeto de grande escala que exigiu muito de nós, intelectualmente e em termos de trabalho.
Minha esposa jogou minhas coisas para fora de casa. | Foto: Shutterstock
Este projeto deveria continuar por mais um ano e, se bem-sucedido, daria um impulso significativo às nossas carreiras. Eu definitivamente aproveitaria isso, pois significaria uma promoção ou talvez até melhores ofertas.
Eu ganhava o suficiente, é claro, mas em algum momento no passado, percebi que não se tratava mais do lucro para mim, mas sim do que eu podia fazer pelas pessoas para ajudá-las a resolver seus problemas — os técnicos, pelo menos.
Há poucos meses, minha diretora fez uma confissão que detalhava seus sentimentos por mim, e quando digo detalhada, é exatamente isso. Ela fez essa confissão por meio de um longo e-mail que recebi num sábado à noite — ela tinha bebido.
Dizer que fiquei chocado seria um eufemismo, porque eu jamais imaginaria que algo assim me aconteceria em um milhão de anos. Para mim, esse tipo de coisa se limitava a novelas.
Eu estava lendo a correspondência do meu chefe. | Foto: Getty Images
No e-mail, minha diretora revelou que estava apaixonada por mim durante a maior parte dos três anos em que trabalhamos juntos. Pensando bem, admito que ela pode ter me deixado algumas dicas, mas sempre achei que era o jeito dela de ser gentil e atenciosa.
Depois de ler o e-mail, chamei minha esposa para o meu espaço de trabalho, que era basicamente uma sala dedicada a todo o meu trabalho com tecnologia. Lá, ficam meus computadores e algumas comodidades que me permitiam trabalhar sem sair da minha zona de conforto.
Quando ela chegou, sentei-me com ela e contei-lhe sobre o e-mail interessante que acabara de receber do meu chefe.
“Você está demitido?!” ela adivinhou.
Por que ela pensaria isso?
“Claro que não”, respondi. “Olha só isso.”
Eu disse à minha esposa que ela precisava verificar o e-mail. | Foto: Getty Images
Ela leu o e-mail, mas apenas riu e voltou ao que estava fazendo antes de eu chamá-la. Depois disso, tudo ficou bem por um tempo, mas depois de uma semana, comecei a notar que ela evitava falar comigo.
Usei todos os truques possíveis para descobrir por que ela estava me ignorando, mas ela sempre dizia que estava tudo bem.
Mais uma semana se passou antes que ela finalmente se abrisse, e quando o fez, eu desejei ardentemente não ter insistido para saber. Naquele dia, ela me chamou de Christopher, então eu sabia que ela estava falando sério.
“Você precisa largar seu emprego”, ela disse.
Minha esposa me disse que eu precisava parar. | Foto: Getty Images
Fiquei tão atordoado que esqueci que estava de boca aberta e, quando me recuperei, não consegui parar de rir, o que, pensando bem, provavelmente foi uma péssima ideia.
“Isso acabaria com a minha carreira, querida”, eu disse descontraidamente.
Realmente não era uma opção que eu pudesse considerar. Preferiria que esse cenário nunca tivesse surgido, porque meu projeto, que consumiu muitos recursos e tempo, está em jogo.
Eu não tinha receio de que meu diretor forçasse a situação ou deixasse que isso afetasse nosso trabalho; nós dois sabíamos o que estava em jogo. Além disso, o e-mail parecia uma mulher desabafando, o que não posso contestar, pois faria o mesmo no lugar dela.
Fiquei chocado com a sugestão da minha esposa de que eu pedisse demissão. | Foto: Getty Images
É verdade que eu teria que pensar muito sobre como prosseguir com a dinâmica de trabalho, mas abandonar nosso projeto não era uma opção.
Tentei explicar isso para minha esposa, mas ela já tinha se decidido, e, cara, como ela era teimosa. Então, mais uma semana se passou, e minha esposa alternava entre ficar furiosa e me dar gelo. Ela também sugeriu várias vezes que eu saísse de casa para ficar com minha diretora, já que eu já passava muito tempo com ela.
E hoje, quando decidi ir para casa na hora do almoço, descobri que as fechaduras tinham sido trocadas e meus pertences estavam no pátio. Meu número do trabalho e meu celular estavam bloqueados no celular dela, então não consegui falar com ela também. Voltei ao trabalho num turbilhão de raiva. Como ela pôde fazer isso?
Tentei falar com a minha esposa, mas sem sucesso. | Foto: Getty Images
Ela me ligou vários dias depois, depois de me deixar em paz, e confessou que se sentia extremamente ansiosa cada vez que eu ia ao escritório, e tudo isso a sobrecarregou, levando-a a tomar essa decisão drástica. Ela também me deu um ultimato.
“Chris, você pode voltar assim que deixar seu emprego”, ela disse.
“Essa opção ainda está fora de cogitação!”, quase gritei.
Eu não conseguia largar meu emprego. | Foto: Getty Images
Depois de conversar com minha família sobre a confusão, lembrei-me de que eu era dono da casa da qual fui despejado. Então, comecei a ficar de olho na casa e, assim que ela saiu para a loja uma tarde, chamei um chaveiro para me ajudar a entrar.
Quando ela voltou, ficou furiosa ao me ver na sala. Gritou comigo e pediu que eu saísse de casa até entregar minha carta de demissão.
Contei a ela que havia notificado minha família sobre o que estava acontecendo e que eles insistiram no divórcio. Também contei que planejava ir ao tribunal no dia seguinte para entrar com o pedido e que ela tinha alguns dias para arrumar as malas.
Eu disse a ela que tinha terminado. | Foto: Getty Images
O que podemos aprender com a história?
- Confiança é recíproca. A esposa de Christopher não confiava nele e estava muito preocupada com a possibilidade de ele ceder ao convite aparentemente aberto do diretor. Ele confiou que ela não reagiria exageradamente quando lhe mostrasse a carta, mas ela se recusou a confiar nele para lidar com a situação, e isso pôs fim à união deles.
- Em caso de dúvida, ligue para a família. Christopher procurou a família quando as coisas ficaram complicadas, e eles o ajudaram a se virar, fazendo-o perceber que a casa da qual foi expulso era, na verdade, sua. Com o apoio deles, ele optou pelo divórcio, encerrando efetivamente o drama.
Compartilhe esta história com seus amigos e familiares. Ela pode alegrar o dia deles e inspirá-los.
Parents Started Charging Me Rent Because I Had Decorated My Room – Karma Hit Back
When my parents demanded rent for the basement I’d turned into a haven, they never expected it would lead to my escape and their ultimate regret.
I’d always felt like the black sheep in my family. It was not just a feeling, though. It was pretty obvious when you looked at how differently my parents treated me and my younger brother, Daniel.
When I was 17, we moved to a two-bedroom house, and my parents decided Daniel needed his own room. Instead of sharing like normal siblings, they shoved me into our unfinished basement.
A basement | Source: Unsplash
Meanwhile, he got this huge, bright room upstairs, complete with brand-new everything, like furniture, decorations, and even a gaming setup. Me? I got whatever junk they could scrounge up from the garage.
I remember the day they showed me my new “room.”
Mom gestured around the cold, concrete space like it was some kind of prize. “Elena, honey, isn’t this exciting? You’ll have so much space down here!”
Middle-aged woman smiling | Source: Pexels
I stared at the bare bulb dangling from the ceiling, the cobwebs in the corners, and the musty smell that clung to everything. “Yeah, Mom. Super exciting.”
Dad clapped me on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, kiddo! And hey, maybe we can fix it up a bit later, huh?”
Later never came, of course. But I wasn’t about to live in a dungeon forever.
A teenager girl in a dark basement | Source: Midjourney
I picked up an after-school job at the local grocery store, bagging groceries and pushing carts. It wasn’t glamorous, but every paycheck brought me closer to transforming my basement prison.
My Aunt Teresa was my saving grace through it all. She’s the only one who knew what my life was like at home.
So, when she heard what I was doing with the basement, she started coming over on weekends, armed with paintbrushes and a contagious enthusiasm.
A woman painting a wall | Source: Pexels
“Alright, Ellie-girl,” she’d say, tying back her wild curls. “Let’s make this place shine!”
We started with paint, turning the dingy walls into a soft lavender. Then came curtains to hide the tiny windows, area rugs to cover the cold floor, and string lights to chase away the shadows.
It took months because my job didn’t exactly pay much, but slowly, the basement became mine. I hung up posters of my favorite bands, arranged my books on salvaged shelves, and even managed to snag a secondhand desk for homework.
Posters on the wall | Source: Pexels
The day I hung up the final touch, a set of LED lights around my bed, I stepped back and felt something I hadn’t in a long time or perhaps my entire life: pride.
I was admiring my handiwork when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Mom and Dad appeared and looked around with raised eyebrows.
“Well, well,” Dad said, his eyes narrowing. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”
A man with arms crossed and a tight expression | Source: Pexels
I waited for praise, or at least acknowledgment of my hard work. Instead, Mom pursed her lips.
“Elena, if you have money for all this,” she waved her hand at my carefully curated space, “then you can start contributing to the household.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“That’s right,” Dad nodded. “We think it’s time you started paying rent.”
A man’s hand | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Rent? I’m 17! I’m still in high school!”
“And clearly making enough to redecorate,” Mom countered, crossing her arms. “It’s time you learned some financial responsibility.”
I wanted to scream. Daniel had a room three times the size of mine, fully furnished and decorated on their dime, and he’d never worked a day in his life. Yes, he was younger, but still, it was more of their unfairness.
A big modern bedroom | Source: Pexels
Unfortunately, I knew I couldn’t argue with them, so I bit my tongue. “Fine,” I managed. “How much?”
They named a figure that made my stomach sink. It was doable, but it meant saying goodbye to any hopes of saving for college, which was my plan now that the basement was done.
As if to add insult to injury, Daniel chose that moment to thunder down the stairs. He took one look around and let out a low whistle.
Teenage boy going downstairs to basement | Source: Midjourney
“Whoa, sis. Nice cave.” His eyes landed on my LED lights. “Hey, are these strong?”
Before I could stop him, he reached up and yanked on the strip. The lights came down with a sad flicker, leaving a trail of peeled paint behind them.
“Daniel!” I cried. But my parents rushed to him, asked if something was wrong, and just shrugged at me.
“Boys will be boys,” Dad chuckled as if his golden boy hadn’t just destroyed something I’d worked months for.
Middle man laughing | Source: Pexels
So, there I was, standing in my once-again darkened room, fighting back tears of frustration. In the grand scheme of things, Daniel had only ruined my lights, and I could fix that up. But in truth, it was more than that.
It was a symbol of my life; always second best, always the afterthought. But karma, as they say, has a way of evening the score.
A few weeks later, my parents invited Aunt Teresa over for dinner along with some friends. She brought along a woman named Ava, an interior designer from her book club.
Two women at a dinner | Source: Pexels
We all sat around the dining table and picked at Mom’s overcooked pot roast while she gushed about Daniel and his football team.
But suddenly, Aunt Teresa spoke up. “Ava, you’ve got to see what my niece has done with the basement. It’s incredible!”
I felt my cheeks heat up as all eyes turned to me. “It’s not that big a deal,” I mumbled.
But Ava was intrigued. “I’d love to see it. Do you mind?”
A woman smiling | Source: Pexels
Ignoring my parents’ tight smiles, I led Ava downstairs. As she looked around, her eyes widened.
“Elena, this is amazing. You did all this yourself?”
I nodded, suddenly shy. “Most of it. My aunt helped with some of the bigger stuff.”
Ava ran her hand along the repurposed bookshelf I’d salvaged from a neighbor’s curb. “You have a real eye for design. There wasn’t much potential here, but the way you’ve maximized the space, the color choices… it’s really impressive.”
A bookshelf | Source: Pexels
For the first time in forever, I felt a spark of hope. “Really?”
She nodded and smiled. “In fact, we have an internship opening up at my firm. It’s usually for college students, but… I think we could make an exception for a high school student about to go to college. Are you interested in design as a career?”
I had to stop my jaw from falling off when I tried to speak. “Absolutely! I mean, I’ve never really considered it professionally, but I love it.”
A teenage girl smiling | Source: Midjourney
Ava smiled. “Well, consider it now. The internship is paid, and if you do a good job, you might be able to earn a scholarship from the company for college if you pursue design. What do you say?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Yes! A thousand times, yes! Thank you!”
“Excellent! You can begin straight away. I’ll call you with details later,” Ava nodded and bypassed my parents as she headed upstairs.
A nice woman smiling | Source: Pexels
I hadn’t even realized they had followed us downstairs. Their faces were stunned, and my brother looked confused that, for once, the spotlight was on someone else.
That internship changed everything. Suddenly, I had a direction, a purpose, and most importantly, people who valued and wanted me to succeed.
So, I threw myself into learning everything I could about design, stayed late at the firm, and soaked up knowledge like a sponge.
A teenage girl working in an office | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few months, I juggled school, my internship, and my part-time job at the grocery store. It was exhausting but exhilarating.
At home, things were… different. My parents seemed unsure how to treat me now. The rent demands stopped. Instead, they asked me about my “little job.”
“So, uh, how’s that design thing going?” Dad would wonder over dinner, but he always avoided my eyes.
Middle-aged man looking down | Source: Pexels
“It’s great,” I’d reply, trying to keep things nonchalant. My joy didn’t belong to them. “I’m learning so much.”
Daniel, for his part, seemed bewildered. “I don’t get it,” he complained one day. “Why does Elena get an internship and not me?”
Mom patted his hand. “Well, sweetie, that’s because you’re still young. You’ll get an even better one later.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course, they had to placate the favorite.
A teenage girl at the dinner table | Source: Midjourney
As the school year progressed, I started putting together my portfolio for college applications. Ava was an incredible mentor, who guided me through the process and helped me choose my best work.
“You’ve got a real talent, Elena,” she told me one afternoon in her office after hours. She had kindly stayed back, so I could finish up my plans. “These schools would be lucky to have you.”
Her words gave me the confidence to aim high. I applied to some of the top design programs in the country, including Ava’s alma mater.
A young woman writing on a notebook | Source: Pexels
Afterward, the waiting was agony, but finally, it happened. I was in the basement, touching up some paint on my bookshelf, when I heard Mom call down.
“Elena? There’s a big envelope here for you.”
I took the stairs two at a time and ripped the envelope from her hands. “Dear Elena, We are pleased to offer you admission to our School of Design…” My knees went weak, but it only got better!
A big envelope | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t believe it. Not only had I gotten in, but I’d been offered a full scholarship by the school, the same one Ava attended.
“Well?” Mom asked and gave me a tight smile. “What does it say?”
“I got in. Full ride,” I said, looking up as my eyes watered.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, she went back upstairs. She couldn’t even muster a small congratulation.
A serious older woman | Source: Pexels
My dad said nothing at dinner, and Daniel was somehow angry.
I felt their bitterness. But I didn’t care. Finally, I had what I wanted. Ava held a small celebration for me at the office, and Aunt Teresa held a big bash. It was all I needed.
The next room I decorated was my dorm… then, I redecorated my entire life with colors that shone like my soul, the patterns that made the world unique, and the family I made along the way, who were as supportive as a nice, cozy bed frame that lasts for decades.
A teenage girl happy | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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