I never pictured myself as the kind of woman who’d step back from her career for a man. Yet there I was, sitting at our kitchen table while my husband, David, laid out his “logical” plan for our future — a plan that involved me working less so I could “focus on the home.”
He leaned back in his chair, confident and calm, like he was explaining basic math. “You don’t need to work full-time,” he said. “My salary covers everything. If you go part-time, you’ll have more time for the house, errands, and later, kids. It just makes sense.”
I stared into my coffee, watching the steam curl away. I loved my marketing job — the pace, the projects, the satisfaction of being damn good at what I did. But David was persuasive, always so sure of himself. “It’s not forever,” he promised. “Just until we’re more stable.”
Against my instincts, I agreed.
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