“My Husband Tossed the Meal I Made With a Smile — What He Said Next Shattered Everything”

By the time he returned that evening, the house had transformed. Candles flickered softly. The table was set with our best plates. The golden‑skinned chicken rested proudly on its bed of herbs, steam curling in the air like an invitation. I had even put on the dress he once said was his favorite, though he hadn’t noticed it in years.

I heard the door open, his shoes on the mat, the keys clinking into the bowl. My heart beat faster. Maybe this time would be different.

But before I could greet him, I heard the sharp scrape of metal against ceramic—the sound of him tossing something into the trash.

I rushed into the kitchen.

Neil stood over the garbage can, using a spatula to push the entire roast chicken into the bin.

“What are you doing?!” I cried, my voice trembling.

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