The only thing Nick was ever truly passionate about was having a son.
“I can already picture it,” he’d say, grinning. “Teaching him baseball, fixing up cars, giving him all the things I never had.”
He wanted it so badly, and while I wasn’t against the idea, I wasn’t in a rush either. My career was everything. I had sacrificed too much to get where I was.
But Nick never pressured me. Instead, he made a promise so grand, so convincing, that I believed it.
“When we have our boy, I’ll stay home with him,” he vowed one night, his hands gripping mine. “You’ve worked too hard to give this up. I’ll take the dad role full-time.”
I searched his face for any hesitation. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” he said without a flicker of doubt. “I want to be there. And you? You keep killing it in the courtroom. We’ll be the perfect team.”
I believed him.
So, we started trying. And after two years of waiting, of heartache, of negative tests, it finally happened.
Two pink lines.
Nick was over the moon. “A boy! I know it!” he shouted, lifting me off the ground.
When the doctor confirmed it, he went into full dad mode. He told everyone—his parents, his coworkers, even strangers. “I’m gonna be a stay-at-home dad,” he’d brag. “Best job in the world.”
And for a while, I let myself believe it.
The Change
Pregnancy was brutal, but Nick’s excitement helped. He built the crib, read parenting books, and one night, I even caught him practicing swaddling on a stuffed bear.
But then, the baby came. And suddenly, everything changed.
The first week was a blur. I was exhausted, but I kept reminding myself—Nick’s got this. We’re a team.
Then came the excuses.
Each night, when the baby cried, Nick would hesitate. If I didn’t jump up first, he’d sigh, “I think he needs you more than me.”
During the day, it was the same.
“Can you change him? I just sat down.”
“Can you take over? He’s fussy, and I have a headache.”
At first, I gave him grace. It was a big adjustment. But soon, I realized—I wasn’t adjusting. I was drowning.
One night, it all came to a head.
I was on the couch, nursing our son with one arm while typing an email with the other. A partner at my firm had a question about a case. Nick strolled in, leaned against the doorway, and said casually,
“You know… maybe you should quit work. Just stay home with him full-time.”
I laughed, thinking he was joking.
But then, I saw the smirk.
“Come on,” he continued, “you didn’t actually think I was serious about staying home, right? All moms stay home. I figured it would kick in—your natural instinct, or whatever.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“Nick,” I said slowly, my voice dangerously calm, “do you remember what you promised me?”
He shrugged. “Plans change.”
“No,” I snapped. “You changed.”
He sighed, like I was the unreasonable one. “I just thought… once the baby was here, you’d feel different.”
“Feel different?” I repeated, my heart pounding. “Nick, I built my career from nothing. You knew that. You promised me I wouldn’t have to give it up.”
He shook his head. “I just think the baby needs you more. It’s selfish for a mother to put work before her kid.”
That word—selfish—hit me like a slap.
I gripped the table so hard my knuckles turned white. Then, I took a deep breath and smiled.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll quit my career.”
Nick’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Yep,” I said sweetly. “But on one condition.”
He leaned in, expecting something easy.
“The day I quit,” I said, sipping my coffee, “is the same day we file for divorce.”
His smile disappeared.
“What?”
I set my mug down, staring him dead in the eye. “If I quit, I’ll never respect you again. You broke your word. You promised to stay home, and now you’re pressuring me to do it. So, sure—I’ll leave my job. But I’ll take full custody, and you’ll pay child support based on my full salary. Because I refuse to raise my son with a man who doesn’t keep his promises.”
Nick blinked, speechless.
That night, he packed a bag and left for his parents’ house.
I wasn’t bothered.
The Reckoning
The next day, I got a call from Nick’s mom.
“Honey,” she said carefully, “we’re on your side.”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
Nick’s dad’s voice rumbled in the background. “He made a promise. He doesn’t get to back out just because it’s hard. That woman worked her ass off for her career, and now he thinks he can take it away? He told everyone he’d stay home. Everyone.”
I smiled to myself, satisfaction blooming in my chest.
The Aftermath
A few days later, Nick returned.
He looked different—quieter.
He sat across from me, hands fidgeting. “I was scared,” he admitted. “I thought I could do it, but when it got hard, I panicked. I tried to push it onto you because I thought it’d be easier.”
“For who?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He exhaled. “For me.”
Finally. Honesty.
“I was wrong,” he said, rubbing his face. “And I’m sorry. I want to make this right.”
So, we made new rules.
I kept my career. Nick stepped up—night feedings, diaper changes, everything. We hired a part-time nanny for my long workdays.
Months later, Nick finally became the father he had claimed he wanted to be.
Is it perfect? No. But it’s real.
And sometimes, when things get tough, I remind him,
“I was serious about the divorce, you know.”
Nick grins. “Yeah, and I’m never risking that again.”
Lesson learned: Never break your promises—especially to a lawyer.