When my spouse arrived home accompanied by another woman and declared that he intended to take her as his additional wife, I assumed he was joking. However, once I grasped that he was completely serious, I told him I’d agree—but only under one condition. That condition was something he never saw coming.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine myself in this predicament, yet here I am, recounting what took place just a week ago.
Everything began a few months back when Jack, my partner of eight years, started behaving in a way that felt… off.
We were far past the honeymoon phase, yet I believed our marriage was steady. At least, that’s what I had convinced myself.
At first, Jack’s changes in demeanor were subtle.
He had always been full of new ideas, but suddenly, he was fixated on “non-traditional lifestyles,” speaking about them as if he had unearthed some groundbreaking philosophy.
“You know,” he mused one evening while aimlessly scrolling on his phone, “a lot of people are embracing alternative ways of living. Makes you wonder what truly works and what doesn’t.”
“Like what?” I asked, curiosity piqued.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he responded vaguely. “Just… different approaches to making life more manageable.”
I figured he was referring to something harmless, perhaps minimalism or one of those eco-conscious movements.
Jack had a habit of becoming deeply invested in fleeting interests. At one point, he was obsessed with woodworking; another time, he swore he’d launch a food truck.
His enthusiasm always fizzled out eventually. I thought this new fascination would be no exception.
Then came the peculiar remarks.
“Wouldn’t it be great if there was some extra help around the house?” he asked one evening as I folded laundry.
“What do you mean?” I questioned, shooting him a glance.
“Oh, nothing,” he replied with a casual shrug. “You’re always so busy. Don’t you think it’d be nice to have someone to share the workload?”
“You mean hiring a cleaning service?” I teased.
He chuckled but didn’t offer a real response. His tone was strangely serious, and for the first time, I felt a knot of unease form in my stomach.
Around that time, I noticed a change in his phone habits. He carried it everywhere—into the kitchen, the bathroom, even to bed.
He spent hours staring at the screen, sometimes chuckling to himself. Whenever I asked what was so amusing, he’d brush it off with, “Just watching some Instagram reels.”
At first, I dismissed it. But as time went on, his new obsession started to gnaw at me. I mean, who suddenly becomes glued to their phone overnight?
That’s when I knew I needed to confront him.
One evening, as he stepped out of the bathroom with his phone in hand, I finally asked, “Jack, is everything alright?”
He hesitated mid-step.
“Of course,” he replied with a smile. “I’m just thinking of ways to improve our lives, that’s all. No need to worry.”
His words were meant to reassure me, but they had the opposite effect. “Improving our lives” felt like a coded message for something I wasn’t prepared to face.
A few days later, he hit me with a question that sent a chill down my spine.
“Do you think I’m truthful with you?” he asked casually.
“Truthful?” I echoed. “Umm, yeah. Why?”
“No reason,” he answered quickly. “I just believe honesty is the cornerstone of a good marriage. Don’t you agree?”
“Obviously,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “But why bring this up now? What’s this really about?”
“Oh, nothing,” he chuckled. “I just think it’s time we discuss our future. You know, ways to make things better for both of us.”
I sensed a conversation I wasn’t ready for, so I tried to steer things in another direction. “I need to pick up a few things from the store today. Want to come along?”
“Sure,” he said.
I hoped that would put an end to whatever odd subject he was trying to introduce. But looking back, that moment was merely the calm before the storm.
Fast forward to last week. Jack returned home from work looking more cheerful than usual.
I was in the kitchen preparing dinner when the front door swung open.
Glancing up, I expected his usual half-hearted, “Hey, babe.” Instead, he strode in with a younger woman following closely behind.
“Amelia,” he announced brightly, “meet Claire.”
I set the knife down, puzzled.
Who was she? A colleague? A friend? I had never heard her name before.
“Hi, Claire,” I greeted her. “Can I help you with something?”
She remained silent, instead looking to Jack as if waiting for him to explain.
“What’s going on, Jack?” I pressed.
That’s when he dropped the bombshell.
“Amelia… Claire is going to be my second wife.”
Second wife? He had to be joking.
“Good one, Jack,” I laughed. “You got me. Where’s the hidden camera?”
But his expression remained serious. Dead serious.
“You can’t be serious,” I said, my stomach churning. “This is some kind of prank, right?”
My gaze flicked to Claire, who looked at me like I was the irrational one.
“No,” Jack confirmed. “Listen, Amelia, I know this may seem unconventional, but it’s actually quite practical. Claire is hardworking—she can assist with cooking, cleaning, and other household tasks. Everything will run more smoothly. And hey, at least I’m being honest. It’s better than sneaking around and having a mistress, right?”
I stared at him in disbelief.
He was talking about integrating another woman into our marriage like it was as simple as rearranging furniture. And I was supposed to commend him for his honesty?
Meanwhile, Claire looked increasingly uncomfortable. She avoided my gaze, clearly realizing she was in the middle of something she hadn’t fully anticipated.
As Jack continued justifying his absurd plan, an idea sparked in my mind—one that made me smile.
I waited until he finished speaking, then folded my arms and sweetly said, “Alright. You can have a second wife. But I have one condition.”
His face lit up. “Of course! Anything! What is it?”
“She mustn’t interfere with my second husband,” I replied smoothly. “Deal?”
Jack looked as if I had spoken in an alien language.
“S-second husband?” he stammered. “W-what do you mean?”
“Well,” I said, shrugging, “if you’re entitled to another spouse, why shouldn’t I? Think about it, Jack. Double the income. A man who takes me out when you’re busy. Someone who actually buys me flowers. Sounds fair, doesn’t it?”
“That’s… that’s not how it works!” he spluttered. “You’re being absurd, Amelia!”
“Oh, I’m the irrational one?” I scoffed. “You waltz in here with a stranger, expecting me to welcome her, but the thought of me doing the same is outrageous? Interesting logic, Jack.”
Claire looked between us, wide-eyed, like she had stepped into the wrong conversation. If she was nervous before, now she seemed ready to bolt.
Jack’s face turned red as he attempted to argue his case.
“This is different,” he insisted. “Men having multiple wives—it’s accepted in some cultures. But women having multiple husbands? That’s unheard of.”
I laughed. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on culture? Funny, I don’t recall you embracing any other traditions. Why just this one?”
“Amelia, be reasonable,” he pleaded. “You can’t have a second husband. That’s not how things work!”
“Well, Jack, if you want to embrace tradition, then I suppose I will too,” I said, shrugging. “But let’s be clear. If you want a second wife, I get a second husband. Take it or leave it.”
Jack’s face drained of color.
Then, turning to Claire, he muttered, “Go home. We’ll discuss this later.”
Claire didn’t argue. She grabbed her purse and practically sprinted out the door.
The next morning, I packed my bags and left.
A week later, I filed for divorce.
And from what I’ve heard, even Claire stopped answering Jack’s calls.