My husband’s family thought I would keep putting them first. Then they destroyed something important to my work. A month later, they learned the consequences.

He grinned.

Then he let it fall.

Before I could react, his boot came down across the screen.

Crunch.

Once.

Twice.

Diane smiled.

“There. Problem solved.”

I turned toward Eric.

Seven years of marriage.

Seven years of paying bills while his contracting business stayed “temporarily slow.” Seven years of helping his parents, covering Mark’s debts, and paying property taxes, utilities, groceries, and insurance.

My husband stared at the shattered laptop and shrugged.

“You pushed them too far.”

Something inside me became completely still.

I picked up my phone and handbag.

Eric frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“At midnight?”

“Yes.”

Diane scoffed. “She’ll be back tomorrow.”

I looked around the house I had financed, renovated, furnished, and twice quietly saved from foreclosure.

Then I looked at all of them.

“No,” I said softly. “I won’t.”

Eric followed me outside.

“Claire, stop being dramatic.”

I opened my car door.

“You’re choosing a laptop over your marriage?”

I nearly laughed.

“No. You chose.”

He moved closer. “You walk away, don’t expect us to beg.”