My Husband Controlled Every Dollar I Spent and Demanded I Save – When I Discovered Where the Money Was Really Going, I Nearly Fainted

“Just until she’s sleeping through the night,” he promised. “It’ll be easier. Micah is going to be three. Nicole is a newborn. They need you present, Flo.”

I agreed.

At the time, it made sense. Daycare was expensive. Breastfeeding drained me. My body didn’t feel like it belonged to me yet.

Michael earned enough for us to live comfortably. I did part-time freelance work from home—to stay sane, and to afford small things like an occasional manicure.

We had a rhythm back then: laughter in the kitchen, Friday night pizza, peaceful mornings that didn’t feel like holding patterns for the next argument.

But once Nicole turned one, that rhythm slowly unraveled. It started with “budget conversations.”

Michael would sit at the table with his laptop, spreadsheets glowing, muttering about inflation and long-term security.

“Just until things settle,” he said.