When I got a $640K job offer, I thought my wife would be thrilled. Instead, her shocking response not only made me turn down the job, but also question everything about our ten-year marriage — and now I’m facing the toughest decision of my life.
I got the job offer of a lifetime last week. Six hundred and forty grand a year. That’s not a typo. My current gig pays two-fifty, which ain’t bad, but this? This was life-changing money.
I rushed home to tell Sarah, my wife of ten years. “Babe, you’re not gonna believe this,” I said, bursting through the door.
Sarah looked up from her laptop, her brow furrowed. “What’s going on, Jack?”
“I got offered a new job. It’s overseas, but get this — it pays six-forty a year.”
Her eyes widened. “Six hundred and forty thousand dollars?”
I nodded, grinning like an idiot. “Can you believe it? We could pay off all our debts, buy that house you’ve been eyeing, travel during my time off…”
But Sarah’s face fell. “Overseas? How long would you be gone?”
“Four months at a time,” I admitted. “But it’s only for a year or two. Think of what we could do with that money!”
Sarah shook her head. “Jack, that’s a long time to be apart. I don’t like it.”
I was stunned. “But… don’t you see the opportunity here? We could set ourselves up for life!”
“I need to think about this,” she said, walking out of the room.
I followed her to the kitchen. “Sarah, come on. This is huge for us.”
She whirled around, her eyes flashing. “Us? Did you even consider how I’d feel about this before you got all excited?”
“I thought you’d be happy,” I said, taken aback by her anger.
“Happy that my husband wants to leave me for months at a time? Yeah, I’m thrilled,” she snapped.
I held up my hands. “Whoa, I’m not leaving you. It’s just a job.
A man and woman arguing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
Sarah sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I need some time to process this, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, watching her walk away. Something felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Over the next week, Sarah got weird. Real weird. She’d start talking, then trail off mid-sentence, staring into space. Her phone became an extension of her hand, and she’d tilt the screen away whenever I walked by.
One night, I caught her texting someone at 2 AM. “Who are you talking to?” I asked.
“Just Emma,” she said quickly, locking her phone. “Go back to sleep.”
But I couldn’t shake the feeling something was off. Sarah started going out more, claiming she needed to clear her head. These “errands” took hours.
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