When my husband came home beaming about his promotion, I thought we’d celebrate together. Instead, he told me to quit my welding job and “be a proper wife.” I never imagined a single sentence could shake everything we had.
I was cooking dinner when Holden burst in, his face glowing as if he’d swallowed sunlight.
Before I could turn fully, he hugged me and lifted me off the floor.
“I got the promotion!” he said, spinning me once. “The raise is even better than I expected.”
I laughed, wrapping my arms around him. “Fantastic! Let’s celebrate.”
“We will! I invited everyone for a barbecue this weekend.”
He set me down gently, hands on my waist, kissed my forehead—and then said the words that floored me:
“Now you can finally quit that welding work and be a proper wife.”
“What? Quit my job?”
“Yes,” he said, as if it were obvious. “With my raise, I can support us. You can stay home, care for Enid, manage the house—the way it should be.”
I forced an uneasy laugh. “You can’t mean it. I still bring in more money, money we can save for Enid’s college. And I love what I do.”
“It’s wrong,” he said sharply. “You spend your days with men, sparks flying, coming home smelling of metal and ash. That’s not how a woman should live—or look.”
I stared. He had made little jabs before, remarks that stung, but this felt different.
“Holden, I’m proud of my work,” I said calmly. “It’s skilled labor. My dad taught me to weld, and he—”
He slammed his hand on the counter, the bang echoing in the kitchen.
“I’m the man. I provide. You belong home with our daughter.”
At that moment, I heard a shuffle from the hall. Enid stood there, clutching her stuffed bunny, eyes wide.
“Please, not in front of her,” I whispered.
Holden’s face softened. He knelt to her height, the man I married returning for a moment.
“Hey sweetie, Mom and Dad are talking. Need anything?”
Enid hugged her bunny tighter. “I want you at Career Day,” she said, looking at me. “Maybe show everyone your torch?”
The silence was thick. Holden’s jaw clenched.
I smiled at Enid. “Of course, honey.”
She nodded and shuffled back. Once she was gone, I turned to Holden.
His eyes burned with resentment. “If you won’t quit,” he said low, “don’t expect me to act like this is a marriage.”
He stormed out. I stayed in the kitchen, feeling something vital break inside me.
By the weekend, we pretended everything was normal. Twinkle lights sparkled over the backyard, friends mingled, plates filled.
Holden stood to speak. “Thanks for coming! Most of you know I worked hard for this promotion. It finally happened!”
Cheers rose. He slipped an arm around me. “And the best part? Tandy’s putting down her torch to focus on our girl.”
I froze. My mother-in-law clapped. “At last, my welder ‘son-in-law’ turns into a true daughter-in-law!”
I felt the sting. But I spoke. “Actually, I’m not quitting.”
Silence fell.
Holden laughed tightly. “That’s Tandy. Always swinging a torch harder than the guys. Sometimes she forgets she’s not one of them.”
A few nervous chuckles. I stood frozen, every stare burning, my smile forced.
After everyone left, I escaped to the garage. I put on my helmet, lit the torch, and let sparks fly as I shaped scrap metal into a small shooting star. My dad had taught me to weld at ten, and it had been my dream ever since.
Holden wasn’t asking me to quit a job—he was asking me to give up my passion.
I shut off the torch and lifted my helmet. The shooting star gleamed, a reminder of what mattered to me.
Three days passed like ghosts. At work, my boss called, urgent: “Tandy! Cracked pipeline two towns over. Serious. You’re the best.”
I raced, finishing just in time. My truck slid into the school lot as the last speakers wrapped up.
Inside, Holden sat beside Enid, face hard. I froze. Would this spark another fight?
The teacher called, “Next, Enid!”
She jumped up, holding a poster with a stick figure in a helmet surrounded by orange scribbles. “My mom is a welder,” she said proudly. “She builds and fixes things so people have heat and power.”
Murmurs of awe filled the room. Then she added, “But my dad says she has to stop because it’s a bad job for a woman.”
The air grew heavy. Holden’s face fell. But Enid lifted her chin, her stubborn jaw firm.
“I don’t care,” she said. “My mom’s job is important. She fixes big pipes so everyone stays warm, and she makes pretty things for me, like this.”
She held up the shooting star I’d welded. Parents smiled. The room warmed.
She spotted me. “There she is! That’s my mom!” Applause rose. I walked forward, hands flecked with soot, heart full.
I paused beside Holden, but he kept his head down. I smiled, joining our daughter onstage.
“She’s always dirty after work,” Enid said. “But I don’t mind.”
Later, outside, Enid asked Holden, “Daddy, aren’t you proud Mommy helps so many people?”
He said nothing, clicked the car open. “Get in.”
I nudged Enid. “Go on, honey. Ride with Dad; I’ll grab pizza.”
Once she left, Holden and I faced each other. No anger this time. Just the weight of everything unsaid.
“I want us to try counseling. This isn’t just about the job—it’s about us,” I said.
He nodded, finally meeting my eyes. “Hearing Enid today… it woke me up,” he said quietly.