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When my husband walked out on our marriage because I refused to uproot my life for his dream job across the country, I genuinely believed that chapter of my life was over. At the time, it felt final, brutal, and deeply personal. His name was Stan, and we had been together since high school—one of those relationships people point to and say, “They’ll last forever.” We grew up together, married young, and built what looked like a solid life from the outside. But forever only works when two people want the same future. We didn’t.
Stan always wanted more. More excitement, more recognition, more proof that he hadn’t settled too early. I, on the other hand, was rooted. My parents were aging and needed care. Their health was declining, and walking away from them wasn’t an option I could live with. When Stan landed a high-paying tech job in Seattle, he framed it as destiny. To him, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the kind people sacrifice everything for. To me, it was a crossroads.
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