Last year, I decided to stop cooking to focus on my well-being, not realizing it would lead to a secretive birthday dinner that would unravel my marriage. I’m Anna, married to Tom for four years. We’ve always been open with each other, or so I thought.

A year ago, I stopped cooking, finding it a chore. Tom took over kitchen duties, and we ate out more, but he seemed unhappy. As his birthday approached, he planned a low-key evening with friends. I respected his wishes, unaware of his real plans.

Days before his birthday, I bumped into his friend Lisa, who mentioned a big dinner at his sister’s. Confused, I realized Tom hadn’t told me. I confronted him, and he stuck to his story of a guys’ night. Doubt gnawed at me, so I decided to crash the dinner.

When I arrived, Tom’s face turned from joy to shock. He confessed he wanted a home-cooked meal and had excluded me to avoid hurting my feelings. Betrayed, I left, planning a statement he wouldn’t forget. I cooked a roasted pig with divorce papers inside, leaving a note: “This is my last home-cooked meal. I hope it’s everything you wanted.” Then, I drove away, embracing a new beginning.