When Oliver handed me $100 and told me to make Christmas “work,” I decided enough was enough. After years of his selfishness and absurd demands, I came up with a plan to show him exactly what happens when you treat your wife like an afterthought.

You don’t truly know someone until you’ve shared a life with them. I thought I knew Oliver, my husband of ten years and the father of my three kids. But this Christmas, he managed to outdo himself in ways I never imagined.

And this time, I wasn’t going to stay silent.

Raising three kids as a stay-at-home mom is no small feat. My days are a whirlwind of breakfast chaos, school drop-offs, cleaning up endless messes, preparing three meals a day, and making sure homework is done before bedtime.

By the time my head hits the pillow, I’m exhausted.

But it isn’t like I’m ungrateful. No. I love looking after my family and being there for my kids, but what I crave the most is a supportive partner.

I want someone who understands that even though I don’t bring home a paycheck, my contributions matter. Unfortunately, Oliver isn’t as supportive as I thought he’d be when we first got married.

In our early years, Oliver was the perfect husband. He’d surprise me with my favorite flowers, plan thoughtful date nights, and go out of his way to make me feel loved.

Back then, I felt like I’d hit the jackpot.

But everything started to change after we had our first child, Ellie.

Suddenly, Oliver seemed to think all parental responsibilities were mine alone.

I remember one afternoon, after our second baby, Liam, was born, I asked him to watch Ellie for a couple of hours so I could get some much-needed rest.

“I can’t today,” he said, already grabbing his jacket. “I promised the guys I’d meet them at the bar. It’s important. Paul’s going through a rough patch, and he needs us.”

“But Oliver,” I protested, cradling a crying Liam, “I haven’t slept more than two hours in days. Can’t you stay just this once?”

He sighed. “Jess, I’ve had a long day too. I need this break. You’ll be fine, okay?”

And just like that, he was out the door.

It wasn’t a one-time thing, either.

Oliver had a knack for prioritizing what he wanted over what the family needed.

Once, he insisted on taking Ellie to a football game despite knowing she had a school project due the next day.

“Ellie, this is a once-in-a-lifetime match!” he said, crouching down to her level. “Your project can wait. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

When I tried to intervene, reminding him how stressed Ellie was about finishing her assignment, he waved me off.

“It’s just a project, Jess,” he told me. “She needs to live a little!”

Live a little? Sure! Don’t even ask me what happened next.

Ellie came home late that night and was too tired to finish her homework. As a result, she cried the next morning because she had nothing to submit.

Watching her struggle broke my heart, but Oliver acted like it wasn’t a big deal.

“She’s a kid,” he said. “She’ll bounce back.”

Moments like these made me question whether Oliver truly understood what it meant to be a partner or a parent.

His nature has always been a source of tension between us. I hate arguing but his stubbornness leaves me no choice.

It’s like he refuses to see how his actions affect the rest of us.

As the years passed and our children grew, so did our expenses. Meanwhile, Oliver’s pay didn’t increase much.

Instead of cutting back on his personal spending, he tightened the belt on everything else. He’d still buy new gadgets or splurge on tickets to football games while asking me to “be more mindful” of the grocery budget.

It drove me crazy.

Once, I confronted him about it.

“Oliver, we need to talk about the budget. I need to buy new shoes for the kids, and Ellie’s school trip fees are due. We can’t keep putting these things off.”

“It’s not like I’m blowing money, Jess,” he argued. “You know I work hard, and I deserve to treat myself once in a while.”

“Treat yourself?” I repeated. “You bought a $300 gaming headset last week! How much more do you need to treat yourself?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll figure something out next paycheck.”

“Next paycheck?” I snapped. “By then, the trip deadline will have passed, and Ellie will be heartbroken.”

“Look,” he said, standing up and grabbing his keys, “I don’t have time for this right now. I’ll deal with it later, okay?”

“Later” never came.

Despite his excuses, I tried to make things work.

I budgeted, clipped coupons, and even picked up odd sewing and babysitting gigs to cover the gaps. But no matter how hard I tried, his unwillingness to prioritize our family over his hobbies and comforts made me feel like I was carrying the weight of our household alone.

I craved a supportive partner. Someone who would step up and say, “I’ve got your back.”

But Oliver? He was too busy chasing what made him happy.

This Christmas, though, he crossed all limits.

A few weeks before the holiday, he announced his plans to travel abroad to watch a football match with his friends. I couldn’t believe my ears.

“You’re joking, right?” I said, staring at him in disbelief. “You’re really planning to leave us during the holidays to watch football?”

“Jess, it’s not just any match,” he replied, grinning like a kid in a candy store. “It’s the championship! I’ve been dreaming about this for years.”

“And what about us?” I asked. “What about the kids? Do you not think Christmas is important?”

“It is!” he said defensively. “That’s why I’ll be back a few days before Christmas. I’m not skipping it. You’ll have plenty of time to get everything ready.”

“Everything ready?” I repeated, incredulous. “You do realize I can’t just pull Christmas out of thin air, right?”

“Relax,” he said, waving off my concerns. “I’ve already thought of everything. I’ll leave $100 for you to handle the food, decorations, and gifts. You’re amazing at budgeting. You’ll figure it out.”

I stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and tell me it was a joke.

He didn’t.

“Oliver,” I said slowly, “do you honestly think $100 is enough to cover Christmas for a family of five?”

“Well, maybe not all the fancy stuff,” he admitted, “but you don’t have to go overboard. Keep it simple. It’s about the spirit of Christmas, right?”

“The spirit of Christmas,” I repeated, my voice shaking. “You’re spending thousands to fly across the world for a game, and you’re leaving me with $100 to make Christmas work for our kids? Are you serious?”

“Jess,” he said, clearly irritated now, “it’s one Christmas. Why are you blowing this out of proportion?”

I was livid.

“You know what? Fine. If that’s all you’re giving me, then I’m not hosting Christmas dinner. You can explain to the kids why there’s no celebration.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he shot back. “You’re the mom. You’ll figure it out.”

He left for his trip a few days later, completely unfazed by our argument. Meanwhile, I stayed with the kids.

One afternoon, while cleaning out the junk drawer, I found an envelope with my name on it. Inside was the same $100 bill he’d mentioned, along with a note that read, Make it work. You’re good at that.

I stared at the note.

“You can’t be serious, Oliver,” I whispered to myself.

That’s exactly when an idea began to form in my head. An idea to get back at him in a way he didn’t expect.

That evening, I sent him a text.

Found your note. Don’t worry, I’ll stick to the $100 and make everything work for Christmas. Thanks for thinking of us!

His response came almost immediately.

I knew you’d understand! You’re the best. Can’t wait to see what you come up with. Love you!

The nerve of this man. I stared at my phone, shaking my head. He was completely oblivious to how absurd his request was. Didn’t he wonder why I’d suddenly agreed to stick to that ridiculous budget?

Maybe he just didn’t care.

A day later, I went to the store and stretched that $100 as far as it could go.

I bought a small turkey, a box of stuffing mix, a can of cranberry sauce, and a couple of frozen pies.

There wasn’t much left for decorations or gifts, so I grabbed a pack of dollar-store ornaments and a roll of wrapping paper.

As for presents? I picked up a few small items for the kids and skipped the rest.

Then I sent out invitations. I made sure to invite both Oliver’s family and mine, knowing they’d all expect the usual lavish spread.

If Oliver wanted to see what “making it work” looked like, he’d see it with an audience.

A few days later, he returned from his trip.

“The match was incredible!” he gushed as he set his bags down. “Best experience of my life.”

“That’s great,” I replied. “I hope you’re ready for Christmas. I’ve been working hard to make everything perfect.”

“Of course,” he said with a grin. “Let me know how I can help.”

For once, he actually pitched in. He helped set the table, arrange chairs, and even put up the decorations.

On Christmas Day, the house was buzzing with guests. The kids were thrilled to see their grandparents, aunts, and uncles, and everyone gathered in the living room, chatting and exchanging stories.

Oliver looked proud, as though this was all his doing.

When it was time for dinner, everyone moved to the table. Plates and utensils clinked as they settled in, ready for the feast.

Oliver gave me a wink.

“You really pulled it off, Jess,” he whispered. “I knew you could do it.”

I smiled back sweetly. “Wait until you see.”

Soon, I brought out the food. All I had prepared was a small platter of turkey, a modest bowl of stuffing, a handful of rolls, and a single can of cranberry sauce spooned into a dish.

I had placed the pies on the side, still in their frozen containers.

‘Shocked’ isn’t the appropriate word to describe what the guests felt. Everyone just stared at the table with wide eyes. My mother-in-law was the one to break the silence.

“Jessica,” she said slowly, “is this… is this all?”

“Yes,” I replied, keeping my voice cheerful. “This is what Oliver’s budget allowed. He gave me $100 and told me to make it work.”

His mother turned to him. “You did what?”

“Oliver, are you serious?” his sister chimed in. “You spent thousands on a football trip and left Jessica with $100 for Christmas? What were you thinking?”

I let them talk, watching as Oliver squirmed under their scrutiny. Finally, I reached for the envelope I’d found in the drawer and pulled out the note.

“This,” I said, holding it up, “is what he left me. ‘Make it work,’ he said.”

The room erupted in murmurs. My mother shot me a sympathetic look, while my father shook his head in disapproval.

Oliver’s family wasn’t as kind. His mother scolded him, his sister berated him, and even his father, who was usually quiet, told him he should be ashamed.

Oliver just sat there, staring at the table.

“Jess,” he started. “you could have just told me—”

“Oh, I did,” I interrupted. “I told you $100 wasn’t enough. But you insisted. So, I followed your instructions and made it work. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Then, with all eyes on me, I pulled out a second envelope from my pocket and placed it on the table.

“And since we’re putting everything on the table,” I said, “here are the divorce papers. I can’t do this anymore, Oliver. I won’t keep bending over backward while you prioritize yourself over this family.”

“You’re joking, right?” Oliver asked weakly.

“I’m not,” I replied, standing up. “I’ve spent years trying to make it work with you. Now, I’m done.”

Oliver looked at me like I’d committed a crime.

“Jess, please,” he said. “I’ll do better. I promise. I’ll change. Just… just please don’t do this.”

I looked at him, my heart aching for what could have been if he’d cared enough to try sooner. But I’d heard these promises before, and I knew better than to believe them now.

“It’s too late, Oliver,” I shook my head. “You’ve had years to do better, and you chose not to. I’m done waiting for you to change.”

As I walked out of the dining room, his voice followed me, pleading for another chance. But for the first time in years, I didn’t feel weighed down by his words.