My husband won Parent of the Year for raising our six children while I sat on my own at the side of the hall — then our seven-year-old asked him a question.

And the last line of it says that his wife “works long hours in the city,” which is not a thing that has been true since the fourteenth of June, 2013.

He wrote his own nomination and had his office manager submit it, and then he stood on a stage and cried about the nights he hardly sleeps.

Ruth Ojo asked me one question at the end of that meeting.

She said: “Do you want the school to do anything with this, or do you want it to be yours?”

I said mine.

She put it in an envelope and gave it to me and it went to Delaney Roe, who is my attorney, on the twenty-first of May.

The award was rescinded on the twenty-second. Two lines on the school newsletter, no name. Everybody knew.

And the seven months.

The apartment at Kestrel Wharf has been rented since the fourth of October, 2024, at thirty-four hundred dollars a month, on a twelve-month lease with a six-month break.

Nine months of that lease had run by the time I filed, and I had never once seen a statement, because I have not seen a statement since 2013.

That is the actual trap and it is the reason I stayed, and it is much more boring than an affair.

I was forty-three years old with six children, no income since 2013, no pension contributions since 2013, and no idea what was in any account, because he did the money and I did the children and that was the arrangement he proposed in a kitchen in 2013 when I was exhausted and had three children under five.

I did not stay because I was weak. I stayed because I had run the numbers on the back of an envelope in 2023 and there was no version where I could feed six children.

Everybody wants that part to be about love or fear. It was arithmetic.

Where it is now, a year on.

The divorce was filed on the sixth of June, 2025, and finalised in April.

Delaney Roe is sixty and has done this for thirty years and she said one thing to me in our first meeting that carried me through eleven months, which is: “Mrs Ashcombe, you have not been unemployed for twelve years. You have been employed by a household. We are going to price it.”

They priced it. I am not publishing what I got and I want to say clearly that it is not a fortune and it is enough.

The house is mine. The children are with me and he has them every second weekend, which he takes about seventy percent of the time.

The business. Nothing happened to it. This is not a story where a man loses everything.

He lost some contracts in the summer — three, that I know of, and one of them was a school district, which I did not ask for and which I have complicated feelings about.

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