My Husband Constantly Mocked Me for Doing Nothing, Then He Found My Note After the ER Took Me Away

His favorite insult came out every time the laundry wasn’t folded or dinner was not hot enough.

“Other women work and raise kids. You? You can’t even keep my lucky shirt clean,” he’d complain, and I’d oblige by trying to meet his needs.

That shirt. I’ll never forget that cursed white dress shirt with the navy trim. He called it his “lucky shirt,” as if it were some kind of holy relic. I had washed it a dozen times before, but if it was not hanging exactly where he expected it, I was suddenly useless.

It was a Tuesday morning when everything unraveled.