“Long day?” he asked, more an observation than concern.
“You could say that.” I toed off my shoes, rolling my shoulders. “I had a training update first thing, Danny’s still sulking about his physio, and Emma’s shoulder flared up again this afternoon so I stayed late with her.”
He gave a distracted grunt, reaching for the remote.
“You know, O, you don’t have to run yourself into the ground like this for everyone,” he said lightly. Then, without looking at me, he added, “Just… remember it’s my team paying you.”
I froze. Not quite sure I’d heard him right.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He sighed, already realising how it sounded, but too stubborn and too tired to fully walk it back.
“I just mean… Look, you’re burning out. I pay you to look after me. Not everyone else.”
I went still, the words landing heavier than he seemed to expect.
All I heard was:You’re only here because of me.
“You need to decide who your priority is,” he added, quieter now. “Because you’re spreading yourself too thin.”
“Yes,” I snapped, the edge in my voice surprising even me. “I am burning myself out. For other people. Constantly.”
He flicked his eyes to mine, caught off guard. “Come on, O. That’s not—I didn’t mean it like that. You’re my wife. And my physio?—”
“I’m not just yours, Tyler.” My voice rose despite myself. “I’m mine. I have a life outside of you, and I get to decide how I show up in it.”
His brow furrowed, confusion and something like regret flashing across his face, but I was already turning away. Becausebeneath the exhaustion and the guilt, something darker had lodged itself in my chest.
He could be so damn possessive; sometimes, it felt like his version of loving me also meant owning me.
And I wasn’t sure how long before I snapped.
I stood there in the kitchen, arms wrapped around myself, pulse drumming hard in my ears. Tyler had stood now from where he lay on the sofa, shoulders tense, eyes tracking me like he wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened.
“O…” His voice was softer now, the bite gone. “Don’t do this. I didn’t mean it like that.”
But he had. Maybe not the words, but the thought. It had slipped out before he could catch it, and now it was hanging between us, souring the air.
I turned, pressing my palms to the counter to keep myself steady. “Do you even hear yourself sometimes? You make it sound like I only exist because you let me.”
“Hey, that’s not what I said.”
“Maybe not, but that’s what it feels like.” My throat was thick. “Do you know what it’s like to have everyone need you, to give every piece of yourself away, and then come home to hear you’re not doing enough for your husband, either?”
His mouth opened, guilt flashing across his face, but I was already spiraling.
“I’m burning myself out, Tyler. And not just for Danny, or Emma, or you—for everyone. Because that’s what I do. I take care of people.” My voice cracked. “And do you know what it feels like when the one person I thought might actually see me makes me feel like I’m just a fucking extension of his paycheck?”
He stood then, moving toward me, but I flinched back before he could touch me.
The hurt on his face was painful. But I couldn’t stop now. I’d held this in too long.
“You don’t get it,” I shouted. “You’re so damn possessive sometimes. Like you think if you put a ring on my finger, I’ll never leave. But I’m not just yours. I’m mine. And I’m terrified you don’t love me because of me, you love me because you’re scared I’ll walk away like everyone else has.”
His chest rose and fell, sharp and ragged. “That’s not fair, Orla.”
“Isn’t it?” My laugh came out brittle. “Vegas. The way you cling so tight sometimes I can’t breathe. You think I don’t wonder if this is love or if it’s your fear of being abandoned again?”
