For as long as I’ve been married to Gary, we have had a set Sunday routine. We wake up, have brunch and then hit the grocery store. It’s been this way for the past two years — it’s how the system runs smoothly.

So, it’s a Sunday morning. I make us brunch while Gary sorts out the outside — mowing the lawn and so on.

“Are you ready?” Gary asked, as he came into the kitchen fresh from a shower.

“Yes,” I said. “Don’t forget to take the shopping bags.”

We get to the store, and my husband and I have a ball of a time. We walk the grocery store per aisle, making sure that we got everything we needed — and then some. We were both foodies, so cooking together was our love language.

Until Gary’s phone rang, and I saw a different side to my husband.

We were just about to start unloading our cart at the checkout when Gary’s phone erupted with a loud ring.

“Sorry, Kristen, but I’ve got to take this,” he muttered, stepping aside to answer. “You can start checking out, though.”

So I began to unload all of our groceries — the meat, the veggies, the fruit, not to mention the junk food and drinks that we had stocked up on, too.

Moments later, Gary returned, looking both agitated and excited.

“Listen, I have to run,” he said, glancing at the groceries as the checkout guy went about scanning them.

“Where do you have to go?” I asked.

“The guys are waiting for me. We’re going to have some beers, barbecue, and watch the game together,” he said.

Gary put his hands in his pocket, and looked toward the exit.

I thought that he was waiting for us to finish at the grocery store, then drop me off at home before taking off to his friends.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

“What? Now?” I asked, puzzled. “But we’re about to check out!”

“I know, I know,” he said hurriedly, swinging the car keys. “But I can’t miss this, Kristen! It’s a big deal, you know that the guys and I barely hang out.”

“How am I supposed to get all of this sorted out and get home? You’re getting a cab?” I protested, my eyes darting between Gary and the growing line behind us.

“What? No! I’m taking the car. But I’ll call you a cab!”

He hastily began to place items on the conveyor belt.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ve got to dash!”

And with that, he was gone.

“Do you need help with these?” the checkout guy asked. “We have people to help with these things.”

I nodded. I couldn’t believe that Gary had actually left me at a grocery store, just to go and drink with his friends.

“That will be $650, ma’am.”

Of course, Gary had left without leaving any cash behind. It wasn’t that I relied on him for money — it’s just that we usually did this type of thing together. And $650 wasn’t what I had expected our grocery trip to come to.

I paid and wheeled the heavy cart outside. I stood looking at the parking lot, hoping that by some miracle, Gary would still be there.

That he would be waiting for me.

That he would have finally realized that he was wrong to leave me for an insignificant moment with his friends.

I deserved better.

After a few minutes, a cab drove by. The driver got out and helped me pack all of our groceries into the trunk, and we took off for my home.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got with Gary.

What on earth could have possessed him to leave me alone? I felt hurt and disrespected. I hated everything about the way I felt. My husband had never made me feel this way before.

I got home and unloaded all of the groceries. I was in a foul mood by then. So, I made a cup of tea and took it to my bubble bath. I needed to relax before thinking about how to get back at Gary.

As I was sitting in my bath, sniffing the calming scent of lavender, I decided that I would cook myself a fancy dinner with all the ingredients I had bought.

“Two can play at this game,” I thought, shuffling around the house in my socks and pajamas.

I put on some music and I began to cook — I prepared an elaborate feast, grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, couscous, and the works. All of our favorites.

The kitchen smelled heavenly, and I was in the zone. While waiting for the oven, I set the table meticulously for one — my resolve hardening.

If there was one thing I knew about my husband — he would always check my social media, especially when he was away from me.

So, I took photos while I cooked, and posted them on my socials.

My stories were always perfectly captured, and I usually shared my cooking online. Shortly after I posted every story, Gary would ‘like’ it — and every time he did that, I knew that my plan was working.

Sure enough, my husband would be with his friends — drinking and snacking and watching whatever game they said they were going to. But Gary wouldn’t eat there, not when he knew that I was cooking at home.

For good measure, I sent him a photo of my plate saying:

Dinner is fantastic tonight, wish you were here! xx

Later that night, Gary returned to a clean kitchen without leftovers. I was lounging comfortably with a glass of wine and a book — the evidence of my solo feast neatly packed away at the back of the fridge.

“Hey,” he began uncertainly, after he walked in and out of the pristine kitchen. “The house smells incredible. Did you save me some dinner?”

I shook my head, a slight smile playing on my lips.

“Actually, no,” I said. “But you missed a great meal. Everything was so fresh!”

Gary’s face fell as he glanced around to the dining table, as if hoping that there would be a plate of dinner for him.

“I didn’t have dinner,” he admitted.

“Oh? Why not?” I asked, crossing my legs.

“Because I saw your stories and I thought that there would be dinner for me, too,” he said.

I remained silent. My husband knew exactly what he had done wrong. I just needed him to admit it.

“Kristen,” he said. “I’m sorry I left you at the store like that. It was a last-minute thing with the guys and I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to be with them, I guess. And I knew that you could handle it.”

Gary walked to the fridge and returned with a beer. He opened his mouth to start talking again.

I raised a hand, stopping him mid-excuse.

“Gary, when you choose your friends over me, it’s more than just leaving me to handle the bills or whatever. It’s way more than that. You left me behind so that you could drink beer. You made me feel second to a barbecue. Today, I wanted you to experience coming home expecting a warm meal and finding nothing.”

“You did this on purpose?” he asked, shocked.

“It’s not just about food,” I continued. “It’s about the people you prioritize.”

“I never looked at it that way,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”

Our conversation that night was long and honest — Gary needed to be reminded of the fact that we were a team and that we did everything together regarding our home. But it turns out that I also needed to be reminded that we could have our lives, too.

“Get out sometimes,” he said. “Go out with your friends, and leave me to take over the house. You’re allowed to escape the routine, too.”

When we went to bed that evening, I felt bad. I had never denied my husband food before, but there was a lesson to be learnt here.

Gary needed to know that he couldn’t leave me stranded in a grocery store without a car. Or without offering to help. Beer and barbecue did not qualify as an emergency.

“You’re right,” he said as he brushed his teeth. “I need to get my priorities straight.”

I’m not sure if Gary learned his lesson, but I do think that making him buttered toast and tea for dinner was a step in the right direction.

What would you do?